


Closer To Fine

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Tales From the Tower: The Next Generation [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dad!clint, F/M, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Injury Recovery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Slow Build, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Blowing out one last breath, she opened her eyes and said, "Hey, Wyatt?"He looked up at her, and there was none of his casual and almost insolent confidence in his voice. "Yeah?""Would you. . ." She fiddled with her cast where it hooked over her thumb. "Could I have another hug?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, it's Kate and Wyatt's story!
> 
> So, I need to put a big trigger warning on this story: part of Kate's backstory is that she was raped. It is never described in detail, but her continued recovery from it is a major part of her relationship with Wyatt. She has PTSD, trust issues, as well as trouble with physical touch and intimacy. I know that some of our regular readers have sexual abuse and violence in their past and I wanted to make sure they were warned about this issue before beginning the story. I will call out any chapters that deal with it specifically, but depending on your sensitivity to the issue, this might not be the story for you. I promise it is dealt with all the care and respect we know how, and hope we haven't disappointed anyone who was looking forward to this story.

_2026_

Kate didn't really like change.

It hadn't always been the case. Her mother swore she'd been an easy going baby, never minding travel or the constant rotation of nannies, baby sitters and au pairs that filed through the door. As a teenager she'd thrived on drama and social upheavals. A new best friend every week, a new boyfriend every month. When called on it, she claimed she bored easy, with a practiced flip of her ponytail designed to make the asker feel stupid for thinking it weird.

In retrospect, it was all some complicated self defense thing, a reaction to the lack of connection with her parents or something. Lani would know, but no way Kate was going to ask her.

It had all changed, anyway. As an adult she preferred stability. Routine. She needed to know who and what she could depend on. There was no room in her life for change or upheaval.

Which was probably why she was being extremely unhelpful in Clint's quest for a new pilot to replace him on missions.

He'd been at it a while - over a year, if she remembered right - and only a few guys had gotten to the interview level. (When she'd bitched at him about them all being men he'd informed her that only four percent of fighter pilots were women and suggested she aim her wrath at institutional sexism in general and not him in particular.) She didn't know why all of them had been rejected, but most of them hadn't been able to handle the flight simulator he put them through. Killing them all trying to land in the Tower was an automatic F.

Privately, she was hoping he never found anyone and continued to be their ride for the rest of her tenure on the team.

Then one day he knocked on her door. When she opened it, he said, “Someone survived the simulator.”

Frowning, she stepped back to let him in. "Did he cheat?”

He came in and sat on her couch. He had a spot where he sat, and she had a spot where she sat. They never sat in each other’s spots. “Not that I can tell. He’s not a programmer, it’s not like he messed with the software. Before he was in the Navy he was a bush pilot in rural northern Alaska.”

"That would lend itself to insane landing skills." She sat in her spot and studied him. "Why do you look grumpy?”

“He didn’t apply in the usual way. He showed up in the lobby and ambushed me. Told me he was the best pilot in the country, and I needed to hire him.”

Kate kind of admired anyone with balls that big, but she wasn't going to say that to Clint. "Darcy finished his background check yet?”

“Didn’t need to. He told me up front he was dishonorably discharged from the Navy.”

She paused before saying, "That's kind of-"

"Yeah," Clint said.

"I mean, there's reasons-"

"I know."

Kate couldn't remember when exactly they'd stopped needing complete sentences to have a full conversation. It did make things go quicker. "Did he tell you why?”

“Assault. He said the guy deserved his beating.”

That was unfortunately a reason she could understand quite well. Looking past Clint she studied the skyline out her windows. "Are you going to hire him?”

“Depends on how you read him.”

She ignored the tightness she felt in her chest that came whenever she had to meet someone new or disrupt her day in some way. Instead, she wrinkled her nose. “Seriously?"

“Your radar for people who are fundamentally terrible is second to none.” He met her eyes. “Tell me if you’d hunt him.”

Clint was very, very good at saying just the right thing to get under her skin and make her agree. Kate and Nat bitched about it all the time. Sometimes she swore he didn't even know he was doing it.

Huffing air out of her nose she asked, "Where is he?”

“The conference room next to the elevators on our floor.”

She _really_ didn't want to do this. But it was Clint asking, so she gave him a nod and got to her feet.

He rode the elevator down with her. "His name is Wyatt Okpik," he told her when they reached the conference room door.

For a moment, she stood with her hand on the door and mentally shifted into Avenger mode. Kate the Avenger was calm and collected no matter what life threw at her. She could handle a job interview without batting an eye.  
 When she was ready, she opened the door and stepped into the room.

The first thing she saw was a pair of cowboy boots propped up on the table. He was leaning back in his chair, so far he looked like he’d topple if she startled him. Ethnically ambiguous features, a chiseled jaw—good looking enough to _know_ it—and a god-damned man bun.

Her first thought was that this was not a great start to determining his asshole status. Her second thought was an urge to rip the stupid bun out. She filed both of those away and said, "Mr. Okpik?”

Tragically, he did not tip. He wobbled a slightly but caught himself, swinging his legs off the table in a smooth motion. “Hello. You’re the other Hawkeye.”

None of them really used call signs in the field, the press had dubbed her that years ago and she'd never shaken it. She considered it a compliment - Clint was still a better archer than her - so she let it slide. "Kate Bishop," she said, sitting across the chair from him. "I'm the team leader in the field.”

“I’ve heard that.” He held out a hand. “Wyatt.”

She took his hand, noted the fact he didn't turn it into a bone crushing contest to establish dominance, then folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Why are you here?”

“Because I fly planes better than anyone.”

She'd really been suspecting some bullshit about helping his country however he could. The few other candidates she'd met had been very gung-ho, ready to be a hero types. The kind that would call her ma'am to her face and make geisha girl cracks behind her back. Honesty and ego she could respect. "What'll you do if we don't hire you?”

“Dunno. Was on an oil rig for a while. Might go back to Alaska. It’s just a little chilly up there.”

"It gets a bit nippy here in the winter, too," she pointed out.

“I grew up north of the Arctic Circle. Anything above freezing is shorts weather.”

She bit down on a smile, mostly at the mental image of him in cargo shorts and the cowboy boots. She wasn't entirely sure what else to say. Much stock as Clint might put in her gut, in was an instinctive thing. Yeah, she could pick out an asshole in a five minute conversation, but this wasn't a conversation, it was a job interview. And honest as this guy seemed, he was still trying to win her over.  
 Assholes tended to be very good at hiding.

Finally, she decided to ask the only question she really wanted an answer to. "The guy you beat up. Knowing what you know now. Dishonorable discharge and all. Would you do it again?”

“In a heartbeat.” He looked her in the eye. “It needed to be done.” She could see him assessing her, as critically as she did him. Then he looked down briefly, and back up. “Somebody shouldn’t get away with a crime just because their victim couldn’t speak up.”

Her throat closed up and she reminded herself to breathe, slow and steady, until the threatening panic attack passed. Her history had never been made public. More people knew about it than she might like, but it had been carefully hidden and redacted to keep it out of the press. There was no way, none at all, that he could know and be referencing that.

Still, it shook her more than she'd like. So she stood, managed to say, "Welcome to the team," and let herself out.

*

_2027_

“We’re wheels up in two hours. This is making me nervous.”

From somewhere inside the guts of his jet, a voice called. “Wyatt, don’t hover.”

“You’re making _her_ nervous, man.” Jorge, his mechanic, said to shush him. That didn’t make him feel any better. Of all the strange things he’d gotten used to working with the Avengers—and there were plenty—having tens of millions of dollars of complex equipment worked by a college student took a little getting used to.

She did have her trusty purple android, and backup from Tony Stark. . . but it still unsettled him.

Jorge did all of the day-to-day maintenance, since a jet like this took a ton. He only called Ada when he hit something he couldn’t fix. The hydraulics were behaving a little weird. Jorge couldn’t figure it out, and now he had Ada, Vision, and Nate down here arguing over if it was software, hardware, or voodoo. They had a mission scheduled to depart that afternoon. All he could do was skirt the edges like a nervous parent.

Twenty minutes later, when he was one the verge of asking again, he heard an extremely girly squeal from the bowels of the jet. "I found it!"

"What is it?" Nate asked.

"Hose connector is starting to corrode, probably causing a little bit of an air gap at certain altitudes. Vis, go grab me a R27-B connector and my wrench with the purple glitter stars. I'm gonna double check to see if I can find the cause of the corrosion.”

“I can come in there and do that if you need,” Jorge called.

"You won't fit," she replied.

Nate popped out of the hole and held up his phone to show them a picture of Ada's legs sticking out of a tangle of machinery. How on earth she'd wiggled herself in there, Wyatt didn't want to imagine.

"Any deeper and we'd have to have gotten Cassie," Nate commented when they handed the phone back.

“You got an hour and a half, Ada,” Wyatt said.

There was silence from the jet, then a very defiant, _very_ teenager, "Time me."

Fifty two minutes later Ada emerged, rumpled, covered in various mechanical fluids, with a big scrape on her arm, holding a female to male connector with obvious corrosion on it. "Didn't find the source, but nothing else is showing signs of wear. Go on this mission and I'll send some 'bots in when you get back, get to the bottom of it.”

“But we’re safe to fly?”

"Yes," she said with a firm nod. "This should fix the hydraulics issue and there's nothing else in there that should cause a problem.”

“Okay. I’m going to go tell the boss. See you guys at the briefing?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and Ada muttering about taking a shower first as she headed to the elevators.

Wyatt waved, and went in search of Kate.

FRIDAY sent him to the armory, where Kate was gearing up. She several bows, dozens of different kids of arrows, not to mention guns and blades. Before every mission she hemmed and hawed over them like a socialite choosing accessories. Which, in a twisted way, maybe she was.

She looked up when he came in. "Hey. Jet ready?”

“All fixed. Ada is sending bots in later.”

"Well, it's probably overdue for a full check-up." She fiddled with the bow in her hands, then put it back on the rack, reaching for another one. "Maybe we should requisition a back-up one," she added with a little grin.

He grinned back. “Oh, twist my arm.”

"Yeah, I thought you'd have my back on that." This bow was apparently acceptable, and she moved down the line to the arrows. "Anything else I should know?”

“It’s really cold in Sokovia?” Years later, they were still cleaning up messes in that region.

"I knew that, but having you confirm it makes me wonder if I should wear my thermals.”

“You probably should, I was thinking of taking a jacket.”

She arched a brow, loading her quiver. "You own a jacket?”

“Got one for free with a Happy Meal last year.”

"Are there cartoon characters on it? 'Cause I might actually pay to see that.”

“If there’s money it it for me, I’ll go _find_ one.”

She laughed at that, fitting the last possible arrow into the quiver and setting it next to the bow she'd selected like a mother tucking in her children. FRIDAY pinged over their heads. "Ms. Bishop, you requested I inform you when it was time for the mission briefing."

"Thanks, FRIDAY," Kate said, glancing up, before looking at Wyatt. "Shall we?”

He held out his arm and dipped his head. “Ladies first.”

That got him a skeptical look and a wry smile, a combination really only Kate could pull off, then she proceeded him out of the room.

The briefing was quick and to the point. Arms dealers working in an old fort in Sokovia. Possibly big guns, but no signs of enhanced. They were always worried about running into enhanced bad guys as they were just about the only thing that could give the team a run for their money. 

The jet took off clean, despite Ada holding up crossed fingers as he fired up the engines. They passed the flight time with chatter Wyatt intermittently paid attention to. Kate came up front for landing so she could get recon on the way in. 

Then they left for the fight, leaving him to wait. He was just the getaway car driver, so to speak. He brought a book to read and listened to the comm channel with half an ear.

Their battle banter was often amusing, though parked away from the action he occasionally missed context. Today, however, there was mostly logistics and planning, so he let himself get absorbed in his book. To the point he missed the beginning of the exchange that led to Nate saying, rather urgently, "I'm pinned!"

Wyatt put his book down as Tess came back with a calm, cool, "On it, Kate coming up from the south."

"I see you."

He relaxed, lifting the book again, when the sound of an explosion echoed over the speakers. He could hear it outside, too, that’s how loud it was. There was a cacophony of yelling and cursing, he couldn’t tell people apart. Then Eli’s voice came through. ”Kate? You okay? Tess?”

Neither of them answered. "Nate what the hell happened?" Cassie asked.

"They hit Kate's tower with an RPG," he said, sounding vaguely panicked. "She went flying. I think Tess caught her, but she was awful close to the blast. They both went down, I can't see them."

"Go find them!” Eli yelled immediately.

"I repeat, pinned."

"I'll look," Peter called. "Gonna take me a minute."

"No," he said finally. "Keep in it. Wyatt?"

He leaned over and scrambled to un-mute his line. ”Listening in horror.”

"Get in the air, tell me what you see."

Wyatt understood the impulse, but if the jet got shot down everyone would be stuck in hostile territory with no extraction plan. “You want me to put the jet up where somebody's got RPG’s?” 

"Are you a fighter pilot or not?"

Fair enough. And since he was worried, he made a joke. “Okay, but you explain it to Barton if they scratch the finish.” Then he strapped in and began flipping switches, fully intending to skip most of the pre-flight checklist.

He was in the air when the comm system crackled and popped and Tess's voice came through. "Can y'all hear me?"

"I can hear you," Eli said immediately. Wyatt couldn't recall him ever hearing that much emotion in the other man's voice. Eli was a good guy, steady as a rock, but he tended to hold things close to the chest.

Tess sighed in relief. "Oh, good. My suit got banged up, I lost comms. This is Kate's earpiece and it's a bit worse for the wear, too."

"How is she?" Eli asked.

There was a slight hesitation. "She's . . . stable. She's unconscious. I have her on a back board." It was said in Doc-voice, clipped and precise. Then it softened into something exhausted and maybe a little scared. "There's no immediately life threatening injury, but the sooner I can get her home the better, and I'll need help loading her on the jet."

He could see them now. He was going to have to put the jet down on top of a smoking pile of rubble. No big deal. “I’m coming to you,” he told Tess.

With relief obvious in her voice, she replied, "Even better. Hang on, I think I have some flares.”

Eli was sounding more like himself now. ”We'll finish up down here and meet you at the extraction site.” 

"Got it, Boss," Wyatt replied. “Tess, I can see you fine, I’ll set down on the pile.”

"Okay. Will you be able to come out and help me bring her in?”

“I think so, yeah.” The landing was tricky, and slow, particularly because he had to get it stable enough to let go of the controls. But hey, at least he wasn’t landing on an iceberg in a blizzard.

Tess was hunkered next to an unconscious Kate strapped to a bright orange backboard. She'd taken off her faceplate and helmet and had a cut on her brow that was sluggishly bleeding, but she smiled brightly when she saw him. "Hi. Take her head and we'll put her straight on the fold out.”

He hefted the front of the board up. “We should put something on your suit you can attach one of these things to to move it. Like a mechanical arm.”

"I was thinking repulsers," she said. "With gyros for stabilization. It hasn't- hasn't really been high on the priority list.”

They put Kate on the fold out exam table built into the wall of the jet. He looked down at her and had the strangest urge to brush her hair off her forehead. But Kate hated to be touched. So he looked at Tess. “Get her secured, we can’t stay here.”

"I'm on it," she assured him, already pulling straps out of the wall. "Do what you need, we'll be ready by the time you're lifting off.”

He got the engines fired back up, then got on the comm. “I’ve got Kate and Tess. Heading to the rendezvous.”

They started extracting themselves from the fight while he concentrated on flying. There hadn't been anymore talk of RPGs, but he kept an extra cautious eye out, just in case.

From behind him he heard a pained cry and Tess soothing a now apparently awake Kate. The medical area was farther away from the cockpit than the normal seating, and she was talking quietly, but best he could tell Tess was asking Kate to wiggle various body parts.

By the time he reached the rendezvous site all was quiet again. When he turned to look Kate had an acquired an IV and Tess was fastening her left arm to a brace. “How’s she doing?” he asked.

"There's no signs of spinal or head injury," she replied, in medical mode again. "Her arm is a mess, we'll need to do surgery." She looked over. "Can you call the Tower so Doc can prep the OR?”

“As soon as we’re airborne.” He paused. “What kind of surgery?”

"The forearm bones are broken in multiple places, we'll need to put them back together." She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping blood out of her eye. "Dr. Cho's second skin will help, but we might need to put pins in.”

That sounded like the kind of thing that meant permanent damage. Before he could ask any more questions, the rest of them showed up and began piling in. Once everyone was loaded he took off the very second the gate closed.

Tess gave a briefing once they’d leveled off, and then Wyatt sent a message back to Darcy that he needed to talk to Doc. Once they had her on the line Tess let go of Eli long enough to come up to the front and talk to Doc. There was a lot of medical jargon that sounded even worse than what she'd told him and the group. Doc promised to have the room ready and Tess went back to monitor Kate for what was a very long, quiet, tense flight.

There was a larger than usual group waiting when they landed. Doc and her nurses came on before anyone could disembark and moved Kate to a wheeled gurney. Then they, and Tess, were rushing off to the medical floor, leaving the rest of them to their own devices.

Without really discussing it, they all got off and headed down to the waiting room outside the operating room and settled in for the long wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Her arm hurt.

It was the first thing Kate was aware of as she started to wake up. Dimly, she knew she'd been hurt fighting. There's been an explosion. Tess had asked her to squeeze her hands and wiggle her feet. Things had hurt a lot, all over her left side. Now it was more or less centered on her left arm.

It suddenly occurred to her, wildly, that that might mean her arm was missing and that thought was enough to get her to open her eyes.

Her arm was still there, thought covered in bandages and impossible to move. She was in the infirmary at the Tower, in the room Doc had for people who needed serious care. Clint called it the Coma Room, because Steve had once been in here in a coma.

Speaking of Clint, he was on the other side of the room, sleeping on the floor like a corpse.

If he was crashing on the floor she was probably in pretty bad shape. Also, he'd been in Wakanda when they left on their mission, which meant she'd been unconscious quite a while.

"They couldn't get you a pillow?" she asked, voice painfully hoarse.

“I’m just resting my eyes,” he said immediately. He opened them and sat up, rolling to his feet in a smooth motion. “How do you feel?”

"My arm hurts. And I'm a little concerned I missed a near death experience considering you're sitting shiva with me in the Coma Room."

"Your arm is really fucked up."

She liked Clint because Clint had never bullshitted her or shied away from uncomfortable things. Unlike her actual parents who had turned avoidance into an art form. "As in I can't shoot anymore?"

"No way to know at the moment. But it's definitely on the table."

Of course, there was such a thing as being _too_ blunt. Kate took a deep breath in through her nose and out again. He was watching her carefully and she didn't want to know what he saw, so she looked away first, at a safe, blank wall.

"That's unacceptable," she said finally.

He seemed to consider that. "That's probably the best place to start from. But you're going to have to let it heal first."

She sniffed. "Doc doesn't have some magic pill for that?"

"When the swelling goes down, they'll be able to do some bone knitting and soft tissue regrowth. But mostly it's time. Seeing how nerves reconnect. And then a shit-ton of PT. Ten years ago you'd have lost major function and twenty years you might have lost the whole arm."

Well, thank goodness for small favors, apparently. "Is there rest of the team okay? I remember Tess catching me but Nate was bogged down-"

"They're all fine. Rattled, but fine. They camped out in the waiting room."

That, at least, made her smile. She had a good team. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"In the Coma Room? Until Doc signs you out. Which shouldn't be long, you do live upstairs."

"Good." She tried wiggling her fingers and was pleased to see they did, even though it momentarily cranked the pain up to eleven. "Thanks for waiting around for me to wake up."

"I didn't want you to freak out. And I'm really hoping to convince you not to be as difficult as Nat was when she got badly shot."

Kate had heard tales of the gut wound recovery from hell, from both Nat and Clint. "I don't know that I'm capable of being that difficult about anything. I'm already strongly considering asking for a pain killer."

"You're going to make Doc very happy."

None of them were particularly good patients. In fact, Clint didn't have a lot of room to be throwing stones, since Nat usually had to rat him out before he'd admit to injury. Kate knew she was just as stubborn and stoic as the rest of them, but she was also pragmatic. "I want to shoot again. Doing what Doc says will be my best shot at that. As long as no one tries to _fuss_ I'll try to be good."

"On your behalf, I will keep the fussing types at bay."

"I appreciate your support in this endeavor."

"I'll go get Doc so she can check you out." He turned towards the door, then back. "You'd be able to shoot a gun. No matter what happens, we'll make sure you can defend yourself."

She clenched her jaw, but nodded.

Doc came in, told her in more detail what she was in for as far as recovery. She poked Kate's fingers to test sensation and changd some bandages on her left side she hadn't even noticed before. She asked her to rate her pain and even with Kate telling her a number two less than reality she gave her a morphine shot in her IV. Maybe she was used to people downplaying pain.  The morphine put her back to sleep until mid-morning, when Doc woke her up to eat and tell her the others wanted to see her. She agreed, and braced herself for a constant rotation of visitors.

Eli showed up first; thankfully he wasn't the chattiest person ever. She liked that about him. "May I be the first to say, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry about that. Next time you can get blown up."

He smiled at her. "I am happy to take that on."

"How's everyone else?" 

"Cuts and bruises. They held up good. We got the job done."

She nodded. "Good." Eli didn't like being in charge, or having to order people to do dangerous things. But clearly he'd stepped up to get everyone home. "Thanks."

"Get better," he said firmly. "We need you."

"I'm on it," she assured him, even though she had no real control over it. "Take care of yourself."

Cassie and Kamala came in next, and produced the most fussing. They clearly wanted to hug her, but the arm provided an excuse not to. Then Peter, then Nate, who made a joke about her being bionic now, too. Ada came and told her she was going to figure out how to make a one-armed bow. Kate wasn't really sure how that was going to work, but she wholly supported the endeavor.

Tess came in around mid day, to bring her lunch and check her arm.

"Thanks for catching me," Kate said quietly, when she'd finished her checking.

"Sorry I didn't get there quicker," Tess replied, just as quiet.

"You would have just got caught in the blast with me, then you couldn't fix me up. Clint made a point of how fucked up my arm is. I'm guessing it would have been worse if I didn't get immediate help. So . . . we're good."

Tess nodded and offered her a little smile. "Well, you're welcome, then. And in other good news, I think we can get you in your own bed tonight."

"That is _fantastic_ news."

"FRIDAY will keep an eye on you, and I'm down the hall."

"I promise to yell if I need you."

Tess looked skeptical, but took the IV out of her arm and produced a wheelchair from somewhere.

"Seriously?" Kate asked.

"This or I call Clint to come carry you."

He'd do it, too. Just to prove a point. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and let Tess help her into the chair. It was a hover one, like Lani Wilson used. "I'm just going to walk next to you and make sure you don't hop out as soon as you're out of sight."

"You clearly know me too well."

When they got upstairs to their floor, Wyatt opened his door—across the hall from hers—as they approached. "Hey, they let you out."

"Yep. My time in the Coma Room is over."

"Feel free to yell if you need anything."

She smiled, because while he wasn't exactly _high_ on her list of people to ask for help, she had no doubt he'd come if she needed him to. "Thanks, Wyatt."

He nodded, and ducked back into his apartment. Tess frowned at his door for a moment, and then opened Kate's. "He didn't come down and see you?"

"Nah." She had never been so happy to see her apartment. Tess parked her next to the couch and helped her move over to it. "Wyatt's not the visit you in the hospital type."

"He sat in the coma room while you were out for a couple hours, while Clint was still flying in."

Kate turned her head to look at her. "Wyatt did?"

Tess nodded, pushing the coffee table over so Kate could reach it from the couch. "Said everyone else deserved a shower and some rest and all he'd done was babysit the plane. Which is, like, the understatement of the decade, but he was pretty adamant about it. Do you have spare pillows and blankets?"

Nodding, Kate gestured vaguely to her spare bedroom. Tess went to go fetch the stuff while Kate continued trying to process Wyatt sitting up with her. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, at least not one on one. He was a phenomenal pilot, and she trusted him as much as anyone else on the team - a feat, considering how much longer she’d known most of them. But sometimes she got a weird vibe from him. Nothing bad, nothing to set off her creep radar. Just. . . something.

Tess padded her in with pillows and a quilt. "You okay?"

“Yeah." She gave herself a little shake. She was on too many pain killers for philosophy. “Looking forward to Netflix and napping."

"Sounds like a great afternoon." She went over the last of her instructions, including not getting the bandages wet and how often to take her pills. Reminded her one more time to call someone if she needed anything, and left her to her own devices.

*

Wyatt was just settling in for a lazy Saturday afternoon with his television when FRIDAY announced Kate was at his door. He muted the TV and said, "Send her in."

The door slid open and she stepped in, arm still swathed in bandages. "Hi," she said, taking in the TV and snacks on his coffee table. "Am I interrupting?"

"Just a pending marathon of 90's sitcoms. Wanna join?"

For a moment she looked to be considering it. Then she shook her head. "Maybe another time. I was actually gonna ask a favor but you're busy so -"

"This isn't busy, it's lazy. And if you're asking for help you must be dying. Hit me."

Looking a bit like she'd prefer death, she said, "I need help shopping."

"Like food shopping?" They had most of their groceries delivered. 

"No. Clothes. It's hard to get stuff on around the bandages. Doc says even after the second surgery I'll have a cast and limited mobility so I need to get some, I don't know, tank tops and button up shirts or something to get over it."

"I am absolutely willing to help, and intensely curious why you're asking me and not Kamala or Cassie."

"They'll _fuss_." It was said with distaste worthy of a Victorian society matron. "Peter and Nate will whine the whole time. Eli would do it, but he draws a crowd."

"Fair enough." He stood up. "I'll even hold your purse."

"That won't be necessary. In return, I'll buy you a steak dinner." She glanced at her arm. "Though you may have to cut mine for me."

"Eh, just stab it with the knife and eat off of that."

"That will absolutely not get us thrown out of a restaurant." She tapped the button to open the door. "Ready?"

He followed her into the hall. "Yes, ma'am."

They flagged down a cab out front and Kate asked the driver to take them to Bergdorfs. He wasn't even a little surprised that that was where Kate went for emergency clothes. Kate dressed like someone on a TV show about snobby New Yorkers.

"Am I going to have to help you cut the sleeves off a $400 sweater? Because that sounds like fun."

"I'm hoping sleeveless is going to be in this year. Then I can go to Bloomingdales and you can help me cut the sleeves off a $200 sweater."

"Would this be a bad time to mention the shirt I'm wearing today is from Walmart?"

She arched a brow and studied him. "Do you want me to help you pick some things out, too?"

"Don't make your snob face at me. I like this shirt."

"It looks very nice on you," she said diplomatically.

"Thank you." He looked over at her. "We were poor growing up. A lot of habits stick with you."

She shrugged. "If you like it and it looks good, I don't care what other people wear. I just know what I like."

"And you look very nice in your nice things."

"Thank you." She smiled like no one had said that to her in a while. "Though clearly, they're not designed for one-armed wear."

"This is New York City. There has got to be an Amputees-R-Us somewhere. The other day I walked past a store where all the sold was stickers."

"You should probably tell the Grownups about that. Small children love stickers."

The cab came to a stop in front of Bergdorff's, and Wyatt climbed out, going around to see if she needed help out. The line between being useful and being obnoxious was very fine. She ended up grabbing his arm to help haul herself out onto the curb. Neither of them commented on it. Then he gamely followed her into the building to see how the other half shopped.

She seemed to know exactly where she was going and what she was looking for. An immaculately dressed sales person came to help and together they amassed quite a pile for Kate to try on. She looked quite pleased with herself as she headed in.

"We have boyfriend chairs right there," the saleslady told him helpfully.

It wasn't worth commenting on. He looked at Kate. "You going to need a hand?"

"I think I can manage. I'll yell if I get stuck."

She said it jokingly, but not five minutes later he heard a very sheepish, "Um, Wyatt?"

He went up to her dressing room door. "Are you stuck?"

"Yes, I believe I am." The door creaked open a little bit and he peeked in to see her tangled up in a white shirt with multiple layers. Her bandaged arm was sticking straight up and part of the shirt was over her face. "Help?"

"I might have to cut you out, what's the price on this thing?"

"I am not currently in a position to see the tag. _Try_ to get it off the normal way and if I have to buy a silk dust rag I will."

He gave the fabric a gentle tug, looking to see where it was stuck. There was a part of the neckline rolled in on itself. "I'm going to need to touch you."

He saw her free hand clench, but she just said, "Fine," through what sounded like gritted teeth. Wyatt carefully unrolled the caught fabric, and then managed to get the shirt up over her head. He got an eyeful of pale skin, marred on the left by fresh burn scars, and a lacy lavender bra. Then he handed her the shirt to cover herself with.

"Thanks," she muttered, cheeks dark.

"I've seen plenty of naked women."

"Good for you." She made a little shooing gesture. "I'm almost done."

He flashed her a smile and ducked out.

She appeared a few minutes later, still blushing a little, with clothes piled up on her good arm. "I think this will be a good start."

"If you buy me a really nice steak, I won't tell anyone you got stuck in your shirt."

"We have an accord." She paid and he grabbed the bags for her as they headed out of the store.

On the way, they passed two older Chinese women by the jewelry counter. They were speaking animatedly in their native language and he assumed it was about the jewelry, or what they'd had for lunch, God knew he didn't speak it, when Kate stopped and frowned at them. She snapped out a few words in the same language they'd been speaking, causing both women to gasp and turn purple.

With a flick of her pony tail, Kate turned to head for the doors again.

He leaned closer. "What was that about?"

Color rose in her cheeks again. "They were saying nasty things about me slumming it with you and that my mother must be ashamed. So I told them you fucked like as stallion and asked if they were jealous."

Wyatt laughed. "Hey, thanks."

"Any time. Serves them right for assuming I didn't speak the language."

He looked back, and could see the biddies still staring. Unable to resist, he waved jauntily at them. They made hilarious little noises and turned away.

"For that," Kate said. "I'll get you dessert, too.”

He held open the door for her. “If I ever run into someone speaking Iñupiaq we’ll be too excited by the sheer novelty to find time to gossip.”

She looked up, clearly interested. "Is that what they speak where you're from? Are you fluent?”

He knew nobody could tell my looking at him what his race/ethnicity was, and that this bothered the hell out of many people. They wanted to know what box to put you in. Timing depended on degree of tact, but eventually people would just ask him “What the hell are you?” Kate, being intensely private and respecting the privacy of others, had never asked. But he imagined even she got curious.

“My grandmother insisted I learn. Despite being a half breed.” He leaned into the street to hail a cab. “My mother is Inuit. Tikiġaġmiut, to be specific. Not that anyone knows what that is. My father is/was of indeterminate caucasian-ish origins. He bailed when I was a baby.”

"My parents are both Chinese," she said. "My dad is actually from China - near Hong Kong. My mom is from the Village. So I learned the language from him and the shopping from her.”

A cab pulled up and he loaded her bags before helping her in. “I’ve had people ask me—fishing for an ethnicity—when my family came to America. Like, assholes, America came to us.”

She laughed. "Do you say that? Tourists sometimes come up to me and speak loudly and slowly asking where I'm visiting from. I really enjoy staring them down and saying, ‘Midtown.'"

“A polite version. Though I did once have a drunk dude yell, ‘Go back to Mexico’ at me, and I had to hit him. Apparently I look hispanic when my hair is short.”

Squinting, she studied him a moment. "Yeah, I could probably see that. How long is it when it's not in the man-bun?”

“Somewhere between Hooligan and Noble Savage.” He reached back and pulled the rubber band out to show her.

This prompted more studying. Usually a girl looked at him that long he'd start flirting. "You know, the first time I met you, I had the urge to do that. Tug the hair band out." Her phone buzzed and she glanced down. "Why don't you wear it down more often?”

“It gets in the way. It’s hot in the summer. And mostly because I’m lazy.”

"It'd get you chicks," she told him with a grin, then waved her phone. "Steak dinner. Tonight at seven.”

“You want me to wear it down for dinner?”

She blinked and for a second he couldn't read her face. Then the teasing grin was back. "You wear yours down and I'll wear mine down.”

“Deal. I’ll even wear my good boots.”

"I can't wait to see."

The cab dropped them off in front of the Tower and Wyatt carried her bags all the way to her door. "Thanks," she said as he deposited them inside. "Meet me downstairs at 6:30?”

“I can’t wait.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend everyone!

Kate hadn't been on a date since she was seventeen, but she was pretty sure this was what it had been like. She didn't have any butterflies in her stomach, the way she always had as a teenager. But putting on a new outfit, combing out her hair, and touching up her make-up all felt very familiar.

The unwieldily bandaged arm was new, however.

She rode the elevator down to the lobby at six thirty on the dot, wrapped in about three layers of shirts and wraps.

Wyatt was loitering by the front desk, chatting with the security guard. He had on an actual button-down shirt, and his hair was loose, as promised. She paused just outside the elevators, surprised at the sudden rush of attraction. That was a guy she'd ogle at a bar. In a different life, maybe take home. That was very hard to reconcile with the Wyatt she knew and had come to trust as a member of her team.

If he noticed her standing there staring she would never live down the embarrassment. So she pushed her sudden confusing tangle of emotions down and crossed the lobby to him. “Hey."

He straightened and grinned at her. “Hello. You look nice.”

"Thanks, so do you." She made a point of glancing down at his feet. "Good boots totally worth the wait.”

He opened the door for her. “Lets go, I’m starving.”

They caught a cab to Sixth Ave near Rockefeller, to her dad's favorite steak house. The hostess led them to a table near the windows, ideal for people watching with lots of escape routes. Wyatt actually pulled her chair out for her and helped her settle before sitting himself. It was crowded, Saturday night and all, but the ceiling was high and they weren't near the bar, so it wasn't too hard to have a conversation.

“Does this feel weirdly like some sort of date?”

"It really does," she agreed with a nervous laugh.

“We could order some beers before dinner and belch together. That’ll make it feel more platonic.”

Well, that helped a bit, all on its own. "You are a font of good ideas." She glanced at the menu. "I bet this place doesn't have belching beers, though. Just micro-brewed hiccup ones.”

“I can make a belch out of tap water.” She must have made a face, because he added, “There really isn’t much to do in northern Alaska.”

"You're one of those guys who can burp the alphabet, aren't you?”

“If you want a demo, you’ll need to get me pretty drunk.”

She held up a hand. "I'll pass, thanks."

The waitress came by and did her schpiel and took their drink orders. Then almost immediately, another runner brought by a seafood _amuse bouche_. "I promise not all the food is that small," she assured him when he popped the whole thing in his mouth in one bite.

He chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t mind. I’m not Eli. This is good.”

Eating with Eli did skew your expectations. She nibbled hers, a crab cake with creamy sauce. "That is good."

They ordered appetizers and steaks and Kate hunted for a good topic. This was - by far - the longest time she'd spent alone with Wyatt. She wasn't good at small talk and the lengthening awkward pause was not helping the first date vibe. Asking things about someone usually encouraged them to ask about her and there were big gaps in her past she really didn't want to discuss.

"Eli and Tess seem happy," she finally said, figuring mutual friends were safe.

“They seem like the relationship type, you know?”

"Yeah. Eli always claimed he wasn't, what with his medical stuff. But I always got the sense if things had been different he'd have wanted it.”

“Not really my speed,” he said. “You?”

She bought herself a moment by taking a sip of water. "Not really. My parents weren't the best example of a nuclear family and I like my own space.”

“Physical or emotional?”

Mostly because he'd had the insight to ask the question, she answered honestly. “Yes."

He nodded. “Probably for the best. Me, I’ve lived in barracks and on a carrier and on an oil rig and all sorts of places. I have no sense of personal space. I don’t mind people around me, I just don’t want to bond with them. Would suck the other way. Hate company but wanting companionship.”

Kate brushed away the little pang that caused. Rarely had she heard someone describe her so perfectly without realizing it. "One of these days you should write a memoir. It'll fly off the shelves. No pun intended.”

“I am an abysmally poor writer.”

"That's what ghost writers are for.”

The waitress showed up with the appetizers, and and he waited for her to go before speaking. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m the hero in my own life story.”

Kate tilted her head, hand halfway to to the app plate. "Who else would be?”

“I don’t know. No one, probably. I’m just saying I don’t make the best protagonist on paper. Court Martial and all.”

"Oh, come on. Morally grey protagonists are the best kinds. They'd make a movie about it and have you played by a hot guy named Chris.”

He laughed. “Yeah, and he’d probably be blond.”

"If you're very lucky, they'll give him a spray tan.”

“Maybe after I retire. All these years of Avenging to balance the tale.”  
 She waved a hand. "There you go. Everyone needs an origin story.”

“Still has to be hard. Exposing your whole life to the entire world for judgement. We get enough scrutiny as it is. I’d hate to invite more.”

"Maybe the key is to do it on your own terms." She drank her wine. "Not that I have any interest in it, either. I'm perfectly content with no one knowing who the hell I am.”

“You do pretty good at that. I don’t think any of us really even know who you are.” He held up his hands. “That’s a compliment, not an accusation. I like privacy.”

She chuckled a little. "Nat says it's a Hawkeye thing. Apparently, there was a running joke about Clint never ending up on camera when they were active.”

“It’s funny we do kind of share his job.”

"Clearly, he's too awesome to be replaced by just one person.”

The steaks arrived then, and for a bit they were too distracted by eating. Eventually he asked, “What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?”

That was a far bigger question than she knew how to answer. In reality, if Ross hadn't found her she'd probably be dead or in prison. She hadn't been in the best of places back then. Now, of course, she was much steadier, but she couldn't wrap her mind around a life without being an Avenger. Even if her arm didn't work right again she'd find some way to help.

"I don't know," she finally said, dragging her fork through her creamed spinach. "I don't think about that much. I like doing it and don't really want to change.”

“Fair enough. I was going to go back to Alaska if I didn’t get this job.”

"Would you have been flying planes up there?" she asked, happy to have the attention off of her.

“Probably. My village gets cut off from the roads in the winter. Only way out is dogsled or plane.” 

"I don't think I could live somewhere that isolate. Be nice to visit, avoid people for a while. But I think I'd go stir crazy.”

“It’s got its upsides and its downsides, little village like that. People know and care about each other. But they’re also always in everyone else’s business.”

"Like the Tower," she said brightly. 

“Yeah, I suppose so. I think the Tower might actually have _more_ people.”

She laughed. "It's totally foreign to me. My immediate family doesn't want to be in each other's business, let alone our neighbors. Unless it's for gossip in your little cliques at social events.”

“Rich people do tend to have more physical distance between themselves and their neighbors.”

"I grew up in an apartment building, but we were the penthouse. There was always a vague awkwardness when you ran into people on the elevator."

"Stare straight ahead and hope they don't start chit chatting?"

"Possibly with a surreptitious glance at what kind of shoes they're wearing or if they have the newest Coach bag," she confirmed.

He ate his last bite of steak. "Lonely way to live."

"It is," she admitted, feeling a faint pang of old grief. "But it was the only way I knew."

"And now you help save the world."

"Yes, I do." As if that made it any less lonely. "With lots of people to chit chat with."

Wyatt grinned. "Hey, I think you and I are having an actual conversation."

Her cheeks flushed, which she told herself had nothing to do with that grin and was entirely about the wine. "So we are. No awkward pauses or unintended insults or anything."

"Maybe we should get the hell out of here while we're ahead." He glanced around. "Unless there's someone here we need to brag about my sexual prowess to, of course."

"Pretty sure it's your turn to brag about mine," she told him, signaling the waitress for the check. "Especially if someone makes a face at me paying the bill."

"How do I say 'can suck a golf ball through a garden hose' in Chinese?"

She couldn't explain why, but that gave her a case of the giggles that took her a full minute to catch her breath from. She could remember the last time she'd laughed that hard.

"It has to be Chinese," he told her, laughing with her. "We don't have a golf balls north of the Arctic Circle."

Shaking her head, she managed to get it out, which made him laugh harder. "And it's Mandarin, not Chinese,” she told him, when he'd calmed down.

"I'll remember that for next time."

"Good." She paid the check, leaving a healthy tip because the girl had been nice and kept her water glass perpetually full. Then they headed out into the cold.

"Thanks for wasting your Saturday with me," she said once they were in a nice, warm cab. "Shopping and a nice dinner felt very. . . normal."

"Does it feel strange to you? Because it feels strange to me. Being normal."

"It feels very strange. Which I guess means it's not normal, by definition." She considered a moment. "Maybe nostalgic is a better word. Like, oh, right. This is what my life _used_ to be like."

"This is the life I assumed I'd have. That kind of thing?"

It felt like an almost audible click in her head. "Yes. Exactly that."

"I think we're doing all right, though. Considering where we could be."

He was looking at her with a certain intensity. Like maybe he was worried about her. Or himself. "I think we are," she said finally. "For every best case there's a worst case. I think we're in the good end of the middle."

He watched her a moment, then nodded. "Good enough for today."

She nodded in return, leaning her head back on the car seat. "Good enough."

*

For the second time in two weeks, Clint sat in the Coma Room, waiting for Kate to wake up.

The second surgery had gone well, according to Amanda. She'd flown Helen Cho in to assist with the tissue regrowth and had pulled in the top orthopedic surgeon in the East Coast to help as well. Kate's arm was put back together, with a couple of metal braces supporting Cho's second skin patches. The swaddle of bandages had been replaced with a light-weight spiderweb cast running from her thumb to her elbow. Through the holes her arm was red and irritated, laced with scars.

In the big hospital bed with her face softened by sleep, she looked very young and very small. Even as he thought it, he knew she'd be annoyed by that and it made him smile.

Her eyes fluttered open and she frowned, looking around the room, before her gaze landed on her arm. "Yay. Still there."

"Don't worry, I would have had you humanely euthanized if it looked like you were going to be one armed."

"You know me so well." She wiggled her fingers and smiled. "Everything good?"

"Yeah. But it's going to take a while to heal. I mean a while."

"I figured." She was looking at a couple months in the cast, then god knew how long doing PT. "I've been thinking about going to stay with my parents for a little while."

He stared at her. "Maybe I should go get Doc to turn the morphine down."

She shrugged, looking awkward. "I don't know. Wyatt and I were talking about nostalgia the other day and I thought. . . Mom's never made me chicken soup when I was sick, but she'll probably tell the cook to make my favorite dumplings and try to distract me with gossip. Might be a nice change of pace." She looked up at him. "Sitting around my apartment all day, it's starting to bring up bad memories."

That was certainly something he understood. "What are you going to tell the others?"

"Some form of the truth, I guess. I doubt I'll last very long over there." At least she was being realistic.

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you sure—"

"Not really. But I don't want to sit in my apartment anymore. I don't want to crash in your place. Everyone else will treat me like an invalid. I need to do something, and my parents are distant, not abusive. They'll express tolerable levels of sympathy and then we'll all move on with our lives."

"You could crash at my place," he said immediately. "Hell, I could come sleep on your couch if you want company."

She waved her good hand. "I know. I know I'm welcome and I know you would. I just - I think I just need a reminder of why I chose the life I did." She sighed and looked miserable. "Besides, sooner or later the team's going to get a mission and I want to avoid being here to watch them go without me."

"Yeah. I once wandered around the Australian Outback trying to figure my shit out."

"I really appreciate how you always manage to make my dramatic gestures look utterly reasonable."

Clint laughed. "I've been alive a lot longer than you."

"You went on a walk-about, Clint. I live till I'm Steve's age I don't think I can reach that level of drama queen."

"Maybe Loki left that in my head. Along with the frost. He was an incredible drama queen." Kate was one of the few people—really the _only_ person—he could make jokes about Loki with. A mutual sense of black humor about horrible things.

Sure enough, she grinned and retorted, "Probably better than leaving his fashion sense."

"I would look great in a giant gold helmet."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm sure you'd rock it."

Clint sighed. "You promise if you're unhappy you'll come back at let Nat make you sympathy borscht?"

"I promise," she said solemnly.

When they'd first come back to New York to train the kids, Kate had been perhaps the most closed off. They were all angry and cautious, but Kate was something else. Nobody could talk much to her, so Clint decided they didn't need to talk. They could just be. He took her shooting, he took her running, he showed her his favorite vantage points all over the city. Just like he had been with Nat all those years ago—like any good sniper—he was perfectly content to wait.

One day she'd started talking, and to his surprise so had he. They had a different relationship than the rest of the mentors/mentees. She was, really, the closest thing he'd ever have to a kid. Sometimes he forgot she did have actual parents.

"Well. Best of luck, then."

"Thanks." She shifted a little and glanced down at her arm. "When I get back, maybe we can start working on one armed stuff? My throwing knife skills are probably pretty rusty."

"I'll whip you into shape." He paused. "In the mean time, go upstairs and as Ada for a couple of those tiny grenades Nate flicks off his wrists."

She nodded, jaw tight. He knew how important it was for her to be able to protect herself. Especially if she was going to be home and in her old neighborhood for a while. And he hoped she knew how hard he'd work with her to make sure she was never vulnerable again.

"Thanks for understanding," she said quietly.

"It'll make me worry less, too. I won't make you call me to check in or lurk creepily on the top of the building across the street."

She grinned, because she knew he was only partially kidding. "My mom will appreciate that."

He stood up. "You hungry? Doc said you could eat once you were up."

"Yes. Soothe me with food. I heartily approve."

"Anything you particularly want?"

She considered a moment, eyeing her arm. Then she turned back to him. "Something chocolate."

He pulled out his phone and texted his wife. _Feel like baking?_

_Is the patient requesting things? I'll break out the KitchenAid._

_Something chocolate. Surprise us._

_On it._

He looked up at Kate, who was watching him. "Nat's making you something." 

"I feel very loved." She tried for a flippant tone, but didn't quite make it.

Clint walked over to the bed, and bent down to kiss the top of her head. "You are."

She blinked rapidly a few times, not looking at him. Then she reached out and caught his hand, giving it a tight, wordless squeeze. Sometimes she reminded him almost painfully of Nat. He knew this was all the fuss she'd tolerate, but he also knew she needed it. He squeezed her hand back. "Be back in a bit with baked goods."

She nodded and slowly uncurled her fingers. "I'll wait right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Clint's relationship is, so far, my FAVORITE thing to come out of this series.


	4. Chapter 4

Every Wednesday night—more or less—Nate hosted a poker game in his apartment. It was not _technically_ a boys-only thing, but mostly it worked out like that. Natasha Barton joined once and cleaned everyone out, and was henceforth banned. The other women protested various degrees of "not my thing".

Which meant Poker Night sometimes reached an overwhelming level of testosterone. It reminded Wyatt a whole hell of a lot of the military. For better and for worse.

And it wouldn't be Wednesday without Peter complaining about the weekend before. "So we go back to her apartment, and there was like. . . a shrine. She had a whole shelf of little Spiderman dolls. Then she asked me to wrap her up in the webbing. I'm standing there like. . .That's my work stuff. I do not bring it on dates. Though it might have let me flee faster."

"Seriously man?" Nate took a swig of his beer. "You're telling me you've never done something kinky with that stuff?"

Peter looked at him. "How sexy do you fine spider webs?"

"Getting it on in spooky abandoned houses is a time honored horror movie tradition."

"It's a lot less arousing in person, trust me."

"Might be time to stop corrupting the groupies, man," Eli chimed in, tossing a chip into the pot.

"I'll see that and raise you ten," Wyatt said to Eli. Then he added, "You could use it like handcuffs. Tie her to pretty much anything you want. Have sex on the ceiling."

"It's not actually pleasant to have on your skin. It's an industrial strength adhesive. Consider the risks of using Krazy Glue in your sexcapadaes and then you get where I'm coming from."

"Fair point."

"Anybody ever ask you to wear the outfit?" Nate asked. 

He made a face, eyed the pot and tossed his cards down. "Of course. Though I consider that more of a second date activity."

"I didn't want to know that," Eli commented.

"You're saying you've never—"

"No. It's my work uniform. I do not want to take it into the bedroom, thank you."

There was a pause, then Nate said, "So you and Tess never play doctor?"

" _No_ ," Wyatt said. "Don't answer that. The only way we are going to survive intra team fucking is if we don't talk about it."

"Wasn't going to," Eli said. 

"I don't know why you bothered asking," Peter said to Nate, standing to go refresh his drink. "Eli didn't talk about one night stands there's no way his kissing and telling on a woman he likes."

"Sometimes when people are happy about things they want to brag."

"I am happy," Eli said, quietly. "She might save my life, and she wants to stick around even if she can't."

"Tess is awesome," Pete agreed from the kitchen.

"We're happy for you," Nate told Eli. "Seriously."

The conversation got off sex after that, wandering into more mundane things. When Wyatt went home that night, he got to thinking about how things were changing. Two or three days after he'd been hired, Kate cornered him and told him the team had strict rules against hooking up and if he hit on anyone she'd stab him in the eye.

He had, inexplicably, found the incident kind of hot, an uncomfortable feeling he'd been ruminating on ever since. She pulled him like a magnet, and he was pretty sure she had no idea. Though she was so closed off most of the time it was impossible to tell.

Besides, even if Eli could break the unwritten rules, it didn't mean she would. They were her rules.

He didn't sleep well that night, thoughts unsettled. He finally gave up around dawn and dressed to go work out in the gym. No one was much of an early riser so he'd probably have it to himself. So he was rather surprised when he stepped out of his door to hear the elevator slide open and Kate step out.

"Hey, you're back," he said. She'd gone home almost a week ago, and while no one had said anything to him, he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who had been surprised. Kate didn't exactly paint a Rockwelian picture of her home life.

She jumped when he spoke and glanced behind her briefly, like she was contemplating going back in the elevator to escape. When she looked back at him her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose pink. "Hi," she said, sounding a little hoarse. "Yeah. I'm back."

He stepped closer to her, half expecting her to back-up. He didn't get too close. "Hey," he said again, quietly, gently. "You okay?" Even though she clearly wasn't, it was 50/50 if she'd admit it, and he gave her the dignity of the choice.

To his surprise, she shook her head, face crumpling into something miserable. Then, to his complete and utter shock, she stepped forward and hugged him, arms wrapping tight around his waist. He held her, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her. After a moment, he whispered, "Come back to my apartment?"

She sniffled indelicately, but nodded. He released her long enough to grab the suitcase she'd left a few steps behind her, then kept an arm around her to steer her into his place. She let him guide her over to his couch and sank onto it, tugged a ragged looking tissue out of the end of her cast and wiping her nose with it. "Sorry," she muttered.

Wyatt sat down next to her. "You want to talk about it?"

She shrugged and he figured that would probably be it. She get herself together, probably apologize for the display of emotion, then go back to her place. This would all be another facet of the mystery that was Kate.

Then she said softly, "I overheard my dad having a meeting with some guys. I didn't hear everything. . . but I think he'd involved in some shady stuff."

That wasn't what he was expecting. "What kind of stuff?"

"Like . . . organized crime stuff."

"Well. Shit. Are you sure?"

"I mean, pretty sure. They were talking about shipments coming in from down south and some trouble they were having from one guy. I thought it was weird 'cause dad doesn't really deal with shipping, so I looked up a couple of the names I heard and they were all names of guys either in a known Triad faction or suspected to be in one." She scrubbed a hand over her face. "I mean, there's probably more than one Qiao Zumin or Wan Heung in New York, but after a while it seemed more than a coincidence."

"God, Kate, I'm so sorry." He touched the back of her hand. "You want a drink?"

She nodded emphatically, so he got up to fetch one. After a moment of silence, she said, in a much more Kate-like voice, "What the fuck kind of idiot gets involved in organized crime when his daughter is a goddamned superhero?"

"I would venture he was probably involved with it before you became a superhero." He poured vodka over ice and brought her the glass.

"Thanks," she murmured as she took it, slugging some of it back before continuing. "And I don't know what to do with this knowledge. Do I tell Sharon? We're not cops, it's not like we've given a shit about this sort of thing before. New York is founded on organized crime, I can't just go down there and tell them to knock it off."

"I don't know. I'd want. . . more information. Find out what's true first."

"Yeah." She sighed and knocked back more of her drink. "I don't even know how deep he is. Is he a businessman that occasionally trades favors? Or is he one of the bosses with a ridiculous nickname?"

He took a drink of his own. "So we look into it."

Arching a brow, she gave him a skeptical look. "I'm not much of a spy."

"You're excellent at observing. Probably better than anyone."

That seemed to give her pause and she peered into her glass a moment, pondering. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try."

"I'll help you. However I can. Doesn't seem like a thing you should be alone for." 

She nodded thoughtfully, then looked over at him. "Thanks, Wyatt."

Her hair had slid down, shielding her face. He reached up and brushed it back over her shoulder so he could see her. "You feel any better?"

She'd held herself very still when he touched her, but hadn't dodged or flinched away. Kate was a master of avoiding touches. He seen her do some impressive maneuvers to get out of something as simple as a handshake. "I do. At least well enough to face the rest of them."

He wanted to hug her again, but he was pretty sure that was a one-time thing. "I got your back."

She smiled, and for some reason it looked different than her usual smiles. Softer and smaller and a little tired. "I know you do," she said quietly. "Thank you."

He let his hand settle on her shoulder, rubbing gently. "Anytime."

Her eyes closed and she leaned into his touch a little bit, rocking a bit with his motions. After maybe half a minute, she stiffened and straightened. "I didn't sleep well last night. I think the vodka is hitting me.”

He dropped his hand. “You want me to come crash on your couch?”

She blinked, looking a little surprised. "No. No, I'm all right. I'll come find you when I get up.”

“Okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She nodded and stood. Even as he watched he could see her closing off, rebuilding all those walls. "I'll see you later," she said, 

“Hey, Kate?” he called when she reached the door.

He could see her hesitate, but she turned to look at him. “Yeah?"

“I won’t tell anyone. About the whole crime thing. Or the hug.”

Her shoulders hunched a little but she smiled. “Thanks." He smiled back, and then she let herself out.

*

It was just a hug.

Kate scowled at the gun pieces on the table in front of her. The new cast gave her more finger maneuverability than the old bandages and Doc had okayed her for some fine motor stuff as long as she could rest her arm on a solid surface. She wanted to work with some one-handed weapons, so handguns seemed a good step. And usually dismantling and cleaning them was a zen activity. She could zone out and turn off her thoughts for a little while.

Today, however, she found herself distracted by a stupid hug that had happened two days ago.

Admittedly, it had been her first proper hug in a decade. Lani Wilson had once cautioned her about becoming touch-starved. "People are pack animals," she'd said. "We need contact."

Kate thought she got plenty of contact. Clint held her hand or touched her shoulder a lot. She and Eli exchanged manly arm slaps after missions. The girls got in her personal space. Just last month they'd had a girl's night swapping pedicures and manicures. Sure she avoided casual touching, but that didn't mean she was desperate for contact.

Maybe she'd avoided it so much the novelty alone was making her obsess. Like Victorians having to cover up piano legs.

She sighed and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. Wyatt smelled _remarkably_ good. He smelled the way men's body sprays claimed to smell. Only it was actually fresh and manly and woodsy instead of nose-searing chemicals. He'd also been warm and solid and . . . safe.

Growling under her breath, she jammed the pipe cleaner into the barrel with extreme prejudice. She would clean this and she would shoot things and she would feel better.

She absolutely did not need a man to make her feel safe. She didn’t want to want to touch him again. But she kind of did. And now her stupid pipe cleaner was stuck. She gave it a hard yank and it let go when she wasn't prepared, making her arm jerk back, sending half the other parts skittering off the table.

With a sigh, she crossed her arms and thumped her forehead against them lightly. "I miss my bow.”

“Do you require assistance,” FRIDAY asked from the ceiling.

"No," Kate said with a sigh. Getting up, she gathered up the gun parts, decided it was clean enough and took it and her ammo box down to the shooting range. Maybe Ada would follow through with a one handed bow. That would be entertaining.

She couldn't hear guns firing, which meant she's have it to herself. Suited her just fine. When she opened the door from the prep area to the the shooting area, she heard the woosh of an arrow to her left. 

Kate turned, expecting to see Clint, and instead found Wyatt. With a bow. Not one of her complicated compound bows or Clint's massive recurve. It looked like it was made of wood and rope. She looked at the target, arrow embedded a few inches off center. Apparently he wasn't too terrible at shooting it, either.

She waited, watching him notch and loose another arrow - this one closer to bullseye - before saying, "How am I just learning this about you?"

He turned and grinned at her. "Because telling you I can shoot a bow is like me going to Kamala and telling her I can run."

"You're doing all right." She pointed at the target. "That's ren faire worthy at least."

"Did some hunting when I was younger—thought it was with a normal bow like yours. This I got as a gift, from a fan. Apparently I have them. They sent me an Eskimo bow."

She went over to look at it and he gamely handed it over for inspection. "When my arm's better, could I give this a try?"

"Absolutely. The guy who made it will probably be flattered."

"We'll take a picture. Maybe it'll get back to him."

He glanced down at her handgun. "You come down to practice?"

"Yeah. Getting restless without training." No need for him to know he was part of that.

He nodded. "I was just messing around." He hit the button to pull the target in so he could retrieve his arrows. "I'll get out of your way."

"You don't-" She pursed her lips. "You can hang out if you want. I wouldn't mind."

His eyes searched her face a second, like he was looking for signs of stubborn stoicness, and then he nodded, apparently satisfied. "All right."

She pointed him towards the ear plug dispense, before putting her own ear protection in before setting up her own target. Shooting one handed made her feel a little bit like a gunslinger. But she hit the center every time.

Eventually she noticed the arrows were no longer flying next to her. She glanced over and he was watching her. Staring at her, really. She faltered a little, but finished her clip before putting the gun down. "Something wrong?"

He cleared his throat and looked away. "No, no, sorry."

Her skin prickled a little and she watched him fiddle with his arrows. The air felt heavy, thick with something other than gun powder, making it a little hard to breathe.

It had not occurred to her, prior to this moment, that a simple hug might have effected him the way it had effected her.

She closed her eyes and did some of the sniper breathing Clint had taught her years ago. Sometimes, she thought it soothed her because it reminded her of Clint as much as anything else. Normally, it helped center her, but maybe there was nothing that could help her right now.

It was exhausting, sometimes, keeping up her walls and maintaining her distance. She'd watched Tess and Eli fall in love with an odd, painful blend of joy and jealousy. She watched the way the Grownups touched and hugged their partners and kids and told herself she was happy as she was. And most of the time, she was. She loved her friends, loved her job. Loved Clint, though she'd never said it in so many words. He spoke her language, though, and she was confident he knew. Letting him into her walls was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It had been a risk, had taken months of quiet patience.

She'd known Wyatt at least as long as she had Clint the first time she’d let him see the chinks in her armor. He didn't have any of Clint's zen stillness. But he made her laugh and he accepted her with an easy nonchalance that had made trusting him on the team seem natural. Trusting him any further than that was a risk. A leap off her safe perch.

Blowing out one last breath, she opened her eyes and said, "Hey, Wyatt?"

He looked up at her, and there was none of his casual and almost insolent confidence in his voice. "Yeah?"

"Would you. . ." She fiddled with her cast where it hooked over her thumb. "Could I have another hug?"

He took a breath and came towards her, holding out his arms without a word. She stepped into them, also silent, and he folded her up against his chest. He was just as warm and solid and pleasant smelling as he had been the other day. Only now she wasn't upset and crying so she could appreciate it a little more.

Her head fit perfectly under his chin and she could hear his heartbeat under her cheek. She had no idea if there was some way to make a hug romantic rather than platonic, but she fisted her good hand in the back of his shirt and did her best.

Wyatt rubbed her back, his fingers tracing up and down her spine. She felt him bend his head down to nuzzle her hair, and let out a sigh.

That was definitely not platonic. Her breath quickened, but she didn't feel any of the flutters of panic she sometimes did when people were too close or were touching her for too long. This was probably the time to lean her head back for a kiss, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted to do that. So she just hung onto him, listened to his heartbeat, and tried to figure out exactly what she _did_ want.

He didn't seem in any kind of rush. Maybe he wasn't going to rush her—unlike any other man she'd ever shown any kind of interest it. Maybe his hands weren't going to go wandering somewhere that made her panic and run. He didn't know what had happened to her. Enough references had slipped out over the years the rest of them must have some idea, by Wyatt hadn't been there long enough. But somehow, he knew how careful she needed him to be.

She had no idea how long they stood there together. Long enough his body heat had leeched into her. Long enough the idea of stepping back made her feel oddly shy. Quietly, she said, "This is really nice."

"I have always been afraid to touch you," he replied. "But I've always wanted to."

With a little squeeze, she told him, "You probably shouldn't. I'm really fucked up."

"And I'm really weird. Maybe we'll fit."

She smiled at that. Maybe they would. Maybe they'd get to kissing. And other things that had been out of her reach a long time. "Well," she said. "We can start with more hugging."

She could feel him smile against her hair. "That sounds good to me."


	5. Chapter 5

Kate left the shooting range soon after disentangling from him. Wyatt imagined it would be a while before he saw her one-on-one again. She'd need time to decompress and think. Space would probably do them both some good.

Which was why he was surprised when FRIDAY informed him that. "Ms. Bishop has extended a dinner invitation tonight in her apartment."

He looked up at the ceiling. "Tell her I accept." He paused. "Is there a reason she had you ask? I'm across the hall."

"Ms. Bishop often has me contact others on her behalf. She says it helps her multi task. Currently she is showering after a long run and asked me to pass on the invitation because she was, quote, unfit for human consumption."

Jesus, that conjured all sorts of images. Kate naked. Kate naked and covered in soap. They seemed to be. . .doing something, so he allowed himself those kinds of thoughts. Even if he wasn't sure how long it would take to get to naked things. "The first half of your sentence invalidates the second half," he told FRIDAY.

 

He could almost _hear_ the AI trying to understand that. Apparently, she gave up because all she said was, "Ms. Bishop said to come over in about half an hour to pick a take out menu."

"Thanks. Tell her I'll be there."

"I'll pass it on."

Half an hour later he walked across the hall and lifted a hand to knock, only to have the door slide open. He stepped inside and glanced around. The apartment was a mirror image of his, with a view of the city. There was a bench next to the door with several pairs of her shoes scattered around it. The rest of the apartment, from what he could see, had touches of Chinese decor here and there - she seemed to like dragons and swords, neither of which was terribly surprising - and an unexpected amount of purple.

"Hi. I have to take my boots off, don't I?"

"Yep!" she called back. "Even Cassie is impressed with my carpet, I intend to keep it that way."

He sat on the bench and tugged them off. "It's very nice carpet."

She came out of the back in soft looking sweat pants and a t-shirt with a bullseye on it, wringing her hair out with a towel. Her toes had chipped red polish on the nails. "Thanks."

"I admit, I was hoping to see a flash of ankle." He gestured at her feet. 

Wiggling her toes in the carpet, she grinned. "Maybe at the end of the night. If you play your cards right.”

“I happen to be a fantastic poker player.”

She grinned again and gestured to the couch. "Come sit. What do you feel like for dinner?”

“Something spicy. Thai or Indian.”

She wandered into the kitchen, then came back with a couple of menus. They settled on Indian, and called in the order, then seemed to run out of conversation for a moment. Just before the silence could get awkward, she cleared her throat. "So, I've done a little research. On my dad's businesses.”

“Find anything good? Or. . . bad?”

"Mostly neutral." She picked up her tablet and scrolled through a moment. "Most of them, best I can tell, are legitimate. A lot of it's finance stuff, which is a little beyond me, but I was able to find paper work and employee lists and the like for them, which makes me think they're mostly on the up and up. But there's two I can't find anything on." She turned the tablet and showed him pictures of two nondescript looking brick buildings. "They're in Chinatown. One's got signs indicating it's an import-export company, but I can't find any way to contact them to arrange a shipment or any shipping manifests that have them listed as the sender or receiver. The other one is just a warehouse or something. No employee records, no signage, nothing. And both are owned by my dad, but were bought through a series of companies to hide that fact.”

He studied them a moment. “You want to go take a look?”

"It think it's worth checking out, yeah. I wanted to find out how deep he is. These might tell me.”

“I assume you don’t want any of the others involved?”

With a sigh, she took the tablet back. "I don't know. I thought about telling Clint. I think I just want to find out a little more before I involve anyone else. If it's something small maybe I can just go talk to him about it and clear it up.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Cassie is our best spy.”

She tilted her head. "If we tell Cassie _everyone_ will know.”

He squinted at her. Yeah, there was no denying that. And the rest of them were just way to conspicuous. “Point. So you and I go?”

"I think we'll both blend well in the neighborhood. You're kind of ethnically ambiguous and I can speak the language. Scope them out, see if we can get a read on the involvement, then decide if we need to rope in the rest of them or if I should just handle it myself.”

He wasn’t going to let her do it on her own, but that wasn’t a discussion he wanted to get into just then. “I’ll find different shoes.”

"Well, we should at least eat dinner first.”

Wyatt looked over at her. “You want to go tonight?”

She frowned. "No I thought you were-" She shook her head. "We can go during the day. I was intending just to eat dinner and maybe watch a movie tonight.”

He smiled. “No, no, that’s what I thought too. I didn’t know if I’d misinterpreted you. ‘Cause I’d kinda thought this was a. . .”

"Date?" she asked, brows up.

He had no idea how to read her face. She was good at that. Much like her mentor. “Yes?”

Her mouth twitched a little and she looked down. "I was seventeen the last time I was on a date. So dinner and a movie is about all I know.”

“In retrospect, shopping and steaks might have been a date, too.”

That actually brought color to her cheeks, but she smiled. "You're an expensive date.”

“And yet you didn’t even expect me to put out. You’re a benevolent sugar mama.”

"Well, you know. I like a boy who plays hard to get.”

FRIDAY announced their food had arrived, and Wyatt went to get it. They busied themselves getting everything unpacked and plated. Kate seemed mostly interested in the naan and raita, but made a pass at the samosas and curry. About halfway through the dinner - and the debate about what movie to watch - he felt her playing footsie under the table.

He absolutely lost his train of thought, or his inability to pay attention to his food. He’d made a joke about her ankles, but they were perhaps having a bit of a Victorian courtship here, which made little things suddenly very hot. 

"If I was really mean," she said, watching his reaction. "I'd use your distraction to talk you into a period drama with subtitles.”

“I happen to like period dramas,” he replied. That wasn’t entirely true, but it would be worth it.

She didn't look like she believed him, but that foot tucked under the hem of his jeans and stayed there the rest of the meal. After cleaning up the leftovers, they went back to the couch and Kate started scrolling through the enormous movie library FRIDAY maintained. She settled on a Chinese period piece that she'd clearly seen before because she informed him, "There's a sword fight in the final act," before settling next to him with her head on his shoulder.

He looked down at the top of her head for a moment, then asked, “Can I put my arm around you?”

After a moment's thought, she said, "That would be nice.”

That she’d had to think about it told him he was right to ask. He wasn’t entirely sure what the deal was, but he knew she hated being touched, and it would do him well to be as cautious as he could. He lifted his arm and she tucked herself against his side.

They spent most of the movie like that. Twice she stiffened up and eased away from him. He moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving her space. She sat for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, watching the TV intensely, before eventually leaning back into him and tugging his arm around her again.

During the last few emotional scenes, she curled her hand around his free one. He turned his hand a little, and slowly their fingers laced. Even this was surprisingly hot.

Neither of them moved when the movie ended and the credits started to play. He felt her stiffen again and moved his arm off of her. But instead of scooting away again, she lifted her head and looked at him a moment. Then she kissed him.

It surprised him enough he froze a moment. Then he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. It was a gentle, chaste kiss. The kind of shy fourteen year olds just figuring this stuff out. It was over almost as soon as it began, but when she leaned away it was just to rest her head back on his shoulder. "Thank you.”

“Kate, you can do that as often as you want.”

Her cheeks pinked. "No, I mean. . . You're being very patient. It makes it easier.”

He looked down at her a moment. “I used to think you didn’t like being touched. Eventually I realized you were afraid of being touched. Strikes me as something someone picks up the hard way.”

She ran her fingers lightly along his arm, raising goosebumps. "Yeah," she said softly. "I'll tell you that story sometime. But not tonight. Please.”

“You don’t ever have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

"I know. But I probably should. If this is going to go anywhere you should probably know.”

He reached up and sifted his fingers through her hair. He’d always wondered what it felt like. “Okay. Take your time.” She nodded against his shoulder and they lapsed into silence for a little while. He played with her hair and she curled her arms around his waist as she cuddled against his chest.

Eventually, she sighed and shifted away from him. "Okay. I think that's about all I can handle tonight.”

He stretched his arms over his head. “It’s getting late anyway. I have an early meeting with. . .something or other.”

"Yeah, I have training with Clint." She stood and walked him to the front door so he could get his boots back on. "Let me know when you're ready to go check out the buildings in Chinatown.”

“I’m just the chauffeur. My life is pretty boring outside of missions.”

She smiled. "Well, we'll see what we can do about that." She waited until he'd finished with his shoes and stood. Then she stepped close and gave him another of those shy little kisses.

She probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her, but he swore that was better than some of the sex he’d had.

*

The next morning, Kate met Clint bright and early to throw knives at targets.

"Are you aiming at the crotch on purpose?" he asked, hitting the button to bring the target close enough to retrieve the knives.

She rolled her eyes. "No." He handed her a knife with an arched brow. "Not entirely," she amended.

“That’s not a very effective spot to aim for, you know.”

Her initial instinct was to point out that if she managed to his a guy there he'd almost certainly be down for the count, which made it quite effective. But she knew her heart wasn't in training this morning. And that was probably obvious to him. And this was her opportunity to admit it so they could move on.

"I might be a little distracted," she admitted, throwing the knife he handed her. This one his center mass, as intended.

“Because you’re gimpy and that makes you cranky?”

It was a nice, simple excuse. Anyone else she'd have jumped on it without a second thought. But this was Clint and she was really bad at hiding things from him. Plus, she kind of needed advice. "Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “Unless you have questions about Nat’s boobs. I have a policy.”

"I feel more information there would only depress me. But it is Nat related. Kinda." She blew out a breath, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "When you guys were first. . . together. As more than coworkers. How did you figure that out? With her issues?”

“She just kind of. . . ambushed me. Opened a hotel room door and she was standing on the other side.”

That wasn't entirely helpful. She picked up another knife and threw it. "And you didn't have any problems?”

He sighed. “We did. Trust. Being comfortable. You use sex as a weapon and it’s not exactly a time you feel safe.” He looked over at her. “Why?”

She tried very hard not to fidget under his gaze. He was not, actually, her father. There was no reason for her to feel guilty or like she was confessing something. "There's a guy. I think I'm developing. . . feelings for him. I'm just trying to get a better picture of how to navigate that.”

Now she had his full attention. “What guy?”

Hoping this didn't end up with him downstairs with a shot gun she said slowly, “Wyatt."

He stared. “Seriously?”

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of that reaction. "You don't approve?”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that. He just seems kind of a . . . frequenter of the groupies. Doesn’t strike me as someone who is going to have the patience to spend years peeling your layers a centimeter at a time.”

She bit back her first, defensive reaction, reminding herself she'd just kind of dumped this on him in the middle of training. "He's been very patient," she said, trying to keep her tone level. "He came over last night and we watched a movie. He asked permission before putting his arm around me.”

“That’s good.” He sounded genuine, if a little surprised.

In his defense, had you asked her a month ago who she'd want to have her first adult relationship with, Wyatt would probably not been her answer. "I just. . . feel like maybe I have a chance. To have a relationship. To stop cutting myself off from things everyone else seems able to do. I just don't know how to navigate that.”

“You navigate it one step at a time.” There was certainty and experience in his voice. “You learn all over again, like you were young. Start from scratch."

She huffed out a breath. "Because I am known for my even temper and patience.”

“You have plenty of patience. You can sit in a perch as long as I can.”

Not with several years of built up sexual tension and Wyatt's arm around her, she couldn't. That was probably too much information for him, though. "Can't you just say something wise and fix it for me?”

“I absolutely can’t. It took us a lot of years and a lot of shit to go through. It took her six years to tell me she loved me. And she did it by text message before she thoughts she was going to die, and then when she didn’t texted ‘please disregard previous message.”

Kate winced. "Ouch. Seriously?”

“She said she wanted to tell me in person.”

She'd always kind of assumed Nat was smoother than that. But almost dying did tend to fuck with your head. "I'm probably not that bad," she said.

“No. But you’re worth it, he’ll wait. Just make sure you show him you’re trying. Let him see through the walls even if you need to keep them in place.”

She nodded. She thought she was doing pretty well at that so far, inviting him over and touching him as much as she was comfortable. "He said I didn't need to tell him what happened if I don't want to. But I should, shouldn't I?”

Clint flipped one of the knives around, like he was thinking about it. “In the early days, Nat told me she didn’t want to tell me what happened to her in the Red Room. Said it would make me angry and I’d have nobody to take it out on. I told her to tell me anyway. It wasn’t easy to hear, but I’m glad I did.” He tossed the knife and it hit dead center. “What did he tell you about getting tossed from the Navy?”

"I only know what you told me. Beating up someone who deserved it. And " She paused. "Though when you had me interview him, I asked him if he'd do it again even knowing he'd be discharged. He said he would, because people shouldn't get away with things just because the victim can't speak up." Her throat tightened briefly, but she cleared it and added. "Struck a certain chord with me."

He handed her another knife, and then got one for himself. “I would guess, if you asked me, that he said you don’t need to tell him because he’s figured out the general gist.” He threw his knife. “I can't imagine the list of crimes that are both not very obvious, yet so bad it’s worth torching your career over is not a very long list.”

"Yeah." It had been her eventual assumption, as well, though she'd been a little concerned she wasn't objective in the analysis. That Clint agreed with her was as good as confirmation. "I feel like telling him is the right thing." She planted her feet and threw her knife. It buried itself right next to his. "I'm concerned about freak outs as we get more physical. Feels like a preemptive explanation is best.”

“Well. . . yeah. If you think there’s a non-zero chance you’ll panic in the middle of sex and kick him in the nuts, a heads up would probably be good.” He looked over at her. “It’s a really bad time to be kicked in the nuts.”

The baleful look and bland tone made her laugh, which was kind of a feat given the topic. "I'm guessing you don't want details, but the last time I was with a guy I was very contained in my freak out. He was confused, but unharmed.”

“Good. I don’t want to have to go back to flying that stupid jet again because you killed our pilot.”

"I will absolutely keep your best interests in mind when embarking on this terrifying journey.”

“The worst part will be the beginning,” he told her. “It gets better from there.”

She nodded, then gently bumped his shoulder with hers. “Thanks."

“Anytime, kid.”


	6. Chapter 6

Wyatt had never been on a stakeout or investigation before, and was strangely excited. Maybe it was the company. His biggest problem at the moment was to find inconspicuous clothes. He didn’t really. . . own any. He was going to have to knock on doors looking for unadorned t-shirts, or go shopping.

Peter liked boring gray hoodies. He’d go ask to borrow one of those. When Wyatt opened his door, Clint was loitering out in the hallway, apparently watching his door.

Wyatt sighed and leaned against the doorframe. This was probably about Kate, given the hard stare. “That was fast,” he said by way of greeting.

"I waited two whole hours since she told me.”

He stepped back into his apartment. “Come on in.”

Clint pushed off the wall and strolled into the room. "She wanted advice," he offered. "I had to ask her for your name.”

“Come to threaten my life?”

He studied him a moment. "You remember the Tachengreggers, Wanda and Zev? They came out for Christmas this year.”

“The deaf guy and the telekinetic with like half a dozen rambunctious children? I did manage to notice them, yeah.”

That got a faint smirk, just a slight lift of the corner of his mouth. "When Wanda first joined she was pretty messed up. Not like Kate, but . . . fragile. On her and Zev's first date Bucky and I sat in my perch all night and watched him pick her up and bring her home. Not because I intended to shoot a medical student. But so that he would know we were watching. And so would she.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to get into some sort of dick measuring contest with one of my bosses. But if I were to hurt Kate, or suggest that I might even be considering hurting Kate, she’d disembowel me and hoist my remains on the on the spire on top of the Chrysler building.” He gestured out his window.

"Probably," he conceded. "She's been taking care of herself a long time. She doesn't need me to protect her. Which is exactly why it's important she knows I will.”

“I think she probably does know that.”

Clint lifted a shoulder. "It's something you'll need to learn, if you're going to be with her. It's not easy.”

“Nothing worth it ever is.”

That seemed to be the right answer, because he nodded and the stare seemed to lower in severity a bit. "If you ever want advice, I've been there. In a number of ways.”

“Maybe later. I don’t downshift that fast.”

Another one of his half smirks. "All right." He paused. "Take good care of her. She's worth it.”

That was probably, for him, genuine approval. As close as he’d get anyway. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

He nodded again, in the brusque, conversation ending way that he had. And, come to think of it, that Kate also had. Then he turned and let himself out.

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath or two. He had plenty of bravado—and could handle himself in a fight if he had to—but he wasn’t exactly one of the combatants. He hadn’t swung a punch since the fight that got him a court martial. Kate really could kill him, let alone somebody like Clint. 

Now he just needed to go get that sweatshirt, and they could get on with their mischief.

He met her downstairs about half an hour later, in a borrowed black hoodie from Peter. He'd gotten a really weird look at the request, but Peter was one of those shirt-off-his-back guys - literally, apparently - so he'd handed it over without being nosy.

Kate had a hoodie of her own, a light purple that was almost grey in some lights, and a blue Yankees hat. She smiled when she saw him. "Very incognito.”

He grinned at her. “You’d better not let Cap see that hat.”

"He needs to let the Dodgers go. They're in California now.”

“Apparently he’d embraced the Mets. The Yankees are still evil.”

She smiled and shrugged. "Sports." It was said in the tone most people would say "roaches" or “telemarketers."

He chuckled and they started for the door. “Hey, they don’t do baseball in Alaska. But the guys here have opinions and I hear them.”

"Oh, I know. I hear them, too. Kamala has opinions, too. Though New Jersey's relationship with New York sports is a little weird and dysfunctional. I make myself scarce." Out on the side walk she took his hand as they watched for a cab.

That made him smile. “So you’ll be happy to know I had the whole ‘break her heart I break your face’ conversation with Clint.”

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I was hoping he wait a little bit longer.”

“Nah, it’s good to get it out of the way. And don’t worry,” he added as a cab pulled up. “Nobody’s going to threaten you about me.”

"Nobody?" she asked, looking up at him as he held the door open for her.

“My mother would just feed you. My aunts, too. They’d all feed you. Have you ever had seal?”

Her brows went up. "No. I'm almost certain I've never eaten seal.”

“It might be an acquired taste. Anyway, they’re all the family I’ve got, and they’re pretty harmless.”

"If you asked the girls nicely they'd probably do it. They did it to Eli on Tess's behalf since she didn't really have anyone.”

He gave the driver the address of the warehouses. “That’s just sad.”

"Yeah. I get the vibe from talking to her she's got some shit in her past she's running from. Or at least studiously ignoring." She gave him a crooked smile. "No wonder she fits in so well.”

“I meant asking someone to threaten for you is sad. Tess’s lack of a family is also sad. We’ve got some lost sheep here.”

"The Grownups have a joke about that being a pre-requisite for superheroing.”

“Early life suffering? Though I suppose you all got plenty of that even without your personal lives.”

"Yeah." She blew out a breath. "I think if you have a happy Rockwellian life throwing yourself into danger on a regular basis loses its appeal.”

“Some of the fighter pilots I worked with were normal. I mean, not a lot of them. But some even had wives and kids.”

She inclined her head. "How much like Top Gun is it?”

“Nobody has dogfights. But there is plenty of testosterone poisoning.”

She nodded as if that was what she'd expected. "Why did you sign up?”

“I was recruited. I rescued some stupid stranded tourists—people who can’t handle the wilderness come to Alaska for ‘adventure’ and get themselves killed with depressing frequency. It was in the middle of a blizzard and I got some local press. And then they called me.”

"That must have been flattering," she said. She actually looked impressed, which had not been his intent, but did feel good.

“There were actually two recruiters fighting over me. One Air Force, one Navy.” Now he was kind of bragging a little. “Navy told me I’d be in the air again faster, so they won. They’re more flexible about their rules and regulations. Air Force would have made me go to college first.” 

"So when the military branches came to fight over you you went with the party school?”

“It sounds really terrible when you put it that way. But also—everybody has a thing, right? I can operate a tiny plane in abysmal conditions. I can land a sea plane between icebergs blind.” He gestured at her arm. “Or land a quinjet in a pile of rubble under fire. Carrier just fit better. Plus air bases are in the desert and that sounds literally like hell to me.”

"You're very picky about weather conditions," she told him, but it didn't have her usual snark. He glanced at her and found her looking rather shaken. Noticing his regard, she cleared her throat. "No one told me you came to get me.”

“Of course I did,” he said, then tried to lighten the moment by adding, “And that was even before I was trying to get into your pants.”

It succeeded in making her smile. Then she reached over to curl her hand around his again. They held hands until the cab came to a stop, a block away as they asked. “Ready?” he asked her.

She nodded and they climbed out. It was in a commercial area, with some small shops and tourist traps tucked in between larger buildings. They crossed the street and strolled along the block, pretending to window shop as they kept an eye on the warehouse.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked casually.

"Surveillance? No, not really. We usually get recon reports from various governments before missions.”

“It did occur to me we’re both used to looking at things from up high.”

She looked at him, then up at the rooftops. "A perch would be nice right about now.”

He looked up, too. “You’re the expert.”

They paced the length of the block again, until she found a building she liked. They had to climb a chainlink fence and scale a fire escape, but they ended up with a good view of the warehouse, including a back entrance they would never have been able to see from the street. "I should have brought supplies," Kate lamented. "Perches are more comfortable with preparation.”

“You want my sweatshirt?”

She glanced over at him. "Nah, I'm all right. If we come back after dark I'll plan better.”

He took it off anyway. “I’m warm.”

With only a mild noise of protest she slid her arms into it. "If you need it back you tell me.”

“The average high in my hometown in July is 50 degrees.”

She shook her head. "You and Clint should compare notes. He doesn't feel cold anymore either.”

“I _feel_ cold. I just happen to like it.”

They were quiet a little while, watching the building. "Do you go home often?" she asked.

“Not as much as I wish I did.”

"You should find some time while it's slow. I'm sure your mother worries," she added, clearly teasing.

“She worries. She’s proud of me. I’m the most famous person in town.” 

Kate gave him a knowing look. "When you go home is there a _fuss_?”

“When I go home, there’s a parade.”

She laughed. "I'd like to see that.”

Wyatt had the urge to tell her he hoped she would, but then something caught his eye down bellow, and he nudged her. “Hey.”

Immediately, she was on alert, peering down at the warehouse. A group of men in a black SUV had pulled up near the back entrance. Wyatt and Kate watched them head inside, then come back out less than an hour, with a couple of small crates that they loaded into the back of the SUV before driving away.

Kate frowned, lowering her phone she'd been using take pictures. "Well, that was kinda weird but not really proof of anything.”

“That was definitely shady.”

"Yeah." She scrolled through the pictures she'd caught. "I got most of the license plate and a couple good shots of faces. Maybe I can figure out who they were.”

“Nate can get you into all kinds of supposedly secure databases.”

"Oh, I know." She tucked her phone away. "And he enjoys it to much he doesn't ask a lot of questions.”

“All these years, you’d think he’d enjoy crime a little less.”

They headed for the fire escape. It was getting towards dinner time and they seemed to have mutually decided it was better to quit while they were ahead. "I think he enjoys dabbling. Now that he can get away with it.”

“And I know how you all feel about the government. Justifiably.” He climbed down the bottom ladder and dropped to the ground. He reached up to help her and then thought better of it.

She landed lightly beside him, still bundled in his borrowed sweatshirt. "Any opportunity to screw with them," she agreed.

“We walk a couple blocks up, we should be able to get a cab.”

"Sounds good. There was actually I shop I wanted to duck into. It had a particular kind of tea I like, was thinking of getting a tin for Doc.”

He held out his arm. “Lead the way.”

She reached out and took his hand, weaving their fingers together as they walked down the street.

*

The lady at the tea shop was helpful but crotchety and oddly suspicious of Kate's ability to speak Mandarin. Still, she got what she wanted to give Doc, plus two new types she hadn't tried before, and a free tea strainer that looked like a dragon, so all in all it was a good shopping trip. At least as productive as her attempts at surveillance had been.

Wyatt carried her bag for her as they walked down to the main road to catch a cab so she could still hold his hand. "So are you a tea man or a coffee drinker?" she asked him. Small talk wasn't really her thing, but if they were dating this was vital information.

“I tolerate coffee as a caffeine delivery system.”

Hmm. "But if someone were to give you _really good_ tea. . .”

He laughed. “Are you telling me tea drinking is some kind of deal breaker?”

"I'm saying you're probably gonna have to put up with tea cups put in front of you on those occasions I'm too tired to remember you're a heretic.”

“I can tolerate tea as caffeine delivery system just as well.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good.” They walked half a block before the sound pricked her ears. She stopped walking and listened. It sounded like a dog whimpering.

“What?” Wyatt asked.

"I heard something." It came again, sharper, followed by the hollow sound of something being struck. There was an alley entrance a few yards ahead and she let go of Wyatt's hand to head towards it.

Halfway down the alley, a guy was going at a painfully thin stray dog, shouting for it to go away. He lifted his hand and she saw he was holding some sort of stick.

Kate glanced around, spotted a broom leaning on the wall next to her, and scooped it up before sprinting down the alley and using it to block the guy's next blow.

The guy look shocked a moment, then glared, swinging the stick at her bad arm. “Fuck off, bitch.”

She dodged and met the blow with her stick. Well, she'd always wanted to see if she could fight with one arm tied behind her back. Shifting her grip on the broom handle so it was more centered, she used it like a bo-staff, smacking the guy in his weapon arm, then across the face.

The stick didn't fall, but he staggered away from the dog. Bracing herself with the bo, she gave him a round house kick to the face, then completed her turn and slammed the broom handle across his abdomen. He gagged and hunched forward, dropping the stick. Kate kicked it away and kneed him in the face, knocking him on his ass. "This is your chance to get up and stagger away. Leave the dog, or I make sure the whole neighborhood knows you got your ass kicked by a little Asian woman with a broken arm.”

He scrabbled back and away. From behind her, Wyatt started clapping.

She huffed out a breath and tossed her broom handle away before turning to him. "I know, it was very hot. You can kiss me later."

The dog was cowering over by the wall and she walked slowly towards it. "Hey puppy," she whispered. "Who's a good boy? Huh?" The whimpering slowed and she saw his tail wag a little. "Yeah, that's a good puppy." She crouched down next to him to get a good look at him.

He looked like some kind of shepherd mix, underfed, with a couple cuts and a swelling lump on his shoulder. "Poor puppy." She pulled out her phone and dialed Clint's number.

“What are you doing in Chinatown?” was how he answered when he picked up.

"Buying tea," she said, grateful for the legitimate excuse. "What vet do you take London to?" Clint and Nat had a sleek black cat with far more attitude than a ten pound animal should be capable of.

“Dr. Bernstein on sixth. Did you find a cat?”

"Dog." She reached out and let him sniff her hand. "Jackass was beating him up.”

“You kick his ass?”

"Of course. One handed, no less. Wyatt is my witness.”

Clint chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

She ignored the little rush of pride at that. "I'm gonna go bug your vet to fix my dog. You might wanna give him a head's up.”

“I’ll call her. Sharon takes Barnabus there, too, and he’s like 400 years old.”

"Thanks, Clint." She hung up and looked up the exact address before looking up at Wyatt. "Can you see if he'll let you pick him up?”

“Yeah,” he crouched down to pet the dog. “Hi, buddy. Don’t bite me. I don’t have any magic Native American animal whispering powers.”

He whined a bit and stayed still, but didn't get aggressive, even when Wyatt eased him into his arms. He did yelp a bit and Kate put a hand out to help stabilize him. "Good puppy," she murmured.

“We’ll need a cab,” he said. 

"I'll get one." She stood and headed for the street, digging in her wallet. On the main road, she flagged down at cab and saw the driver immediately hesitate when he saw Wyatt carrying the dog.

Kate leaned down and held out a fifty dollar bill. "He's injured, I really need to get him to a vet.” The cabbie looked at them both, and then nodded. It took both her and Wyatt to get the dog into the back seat with them.

She gave the driver the address and pet the dog's head as they drove. He closed his eyes eventually and she found herself watching his chest in concern he might be dying.

The ride was silent, and they carried him out of the cab and across the sidewalk and building lobby where the vet’s was. Clint’s vet was fancy, there was an elevator she was grateful for.

The fact that he was waiting for them in the waiting room didn't surprise her a bit. And it meant there was a nurse who took them straight back and had Wyatt lay the dog on an exam table. Someone set up an IV, someone started calling for x-rays and they were gently led out of the room to go wait out front.

Kate tucked herself into Wyatt's side. "Thanks for coming," she told Clint.

“I’m fond of collecting strays,” he said with a smile.

"I hadn't realized it was contagious.”

Wyatt was gently rubbing her back, and she enjoyed the touch. Found it comforting. She put her head on his shoulder. “He needs a name,” Wyatt said.

"Seems weird to name him before I've gotten to know him." She looked at Clint. "Where did London's name come from?”

Clint tilted his head like he was looking for the right words. “The location of the emotional turning point in our relationship.”

"Well, that's not of any use." She leaned into Wyatt again, mulling it over. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, she found the bag of tea she'd shoved in there when they were carrying the dog to the cab. She pulled it out to give her hands more room and glanced at one of the tea tins. Doc was probably going to tease her about not knowing what was in it, since the labeling was all in Chinese, even the brand name.

"Huh. How about Lucky?”

“Is that what it says on that tin?” Wyatt asked.

"The brand name is Lucky Star." She pointed at the characters.

“Well, he’s certainly a lucky dog,” Clint said. 

"He's going to be the most spoiled dog in all of New York," Kate said firmly.

“I’m glad that you’ve accepted this is your dog,” Wyatt told her.

She looked over at him. "Of course. You save something's life, you're responsible for it.”

“I built a whole marriage on that principle,” Clint told her.

Wyatt snorted a little laugh and Kate shook her head. "I'm telling Nat you said that.”

One of the doors opened, and the vet tech came out. “Ms. Bishop?”

She stood up. "Me. That's me.”

“The dog is going to be all right. He’s very undernourished, but otherwise healthy.” 

"So I can take him home?”

The man smiled. “If you want to, yes. You’re taking ownership of him?”

Kate was twenty eight, had lived on her own almost a decade. She did her own shopping, balanced her checkbook and paid taxes. And yet she still, occasionally, forgot she was an adult. When strangers treated her as such, instead of deferring to Clint, it threw her. "Yes," she said. "He's my dog."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/Trigger Warning:
> 
> This chapter includes more specific discussion of Kate's attack and rape. Nothing is described graphically, but what happened is clearly spelled out.
> 
> The conversation happens in the first half of the chapter, the second half has adorable Kate + the Bartons shenanigans, if you want to skip to that.

It was a rather eventful spring. Tess's family showed up and were met by the full force of the Avengers. Eli's uncle started to recover from his dementia and Doc started seriously discussing putting Eli on preventative treatments. And Kate got her cast off.

The last one was really the one that effected Wyatt the most. While Kate had been content to listen to medical advice when immobilized, once it came off, she seemed to think she could go ahead guns blazing. Her PT, who had been formally cleared by Doc and had worked with high level athletes, seemed to have the patience of a saint and had roped him and Clint into making sure she didn't push herself too hard. He was able to distract her with periodic stakeouts at her dad's place. They didn't have much more information, despite spending a few long afternoons watching the doors. But it also meant they hadn't seen anything overtly illegal, either. 

They couldn't go play PI everyday, unfortunately.

"I just want a little practice on the bow. It's my left arm and with the compound I barely have to put any strain on it."

Wyatt heard the voices in the hallway and decided to poke his head out. Sure enough, there was Kate and Lucky, having cornered Clint to plead her case. Lucky looked over when he opened the door and, once he saw it was Wyatt, gave him a baleful look.

With proper food, exercise and love Lucky had filled out into a healthy, muscular shepherd mix. He was smart as a whip and intensely protective of Kate, though he liked Wyatt and Clint. The rest of the team he was friendly enough with, but he rarely left Kate's side, even in a group.

He wasn’t going to wade in to Kate’s argument with Clint. But he did whistle for the dog, slapping his thigh a couple times. “C’mere, boy.”

Lucky glanced back up at Kate, then stood and trotted over to Wyatt, presenting his back for scratching. As he scratched the dog, down the hall Clint called, “Wyatt, help me out here.”

“You look like you’ve got it handled.”

"What if I wore a brace?" Kate said. "I bet Ada would make me a vibranium one.”

“Your aim will be shit,” Clint told her.

Her hands fisted and she glowered at him. "I'm _bored_.”

“I’ve had this _exact_ conversation with a woman scarier than you.” He gestured at Wyatt. “Maybe he’ll entertain you.”

Her cheeks flushed and he could see her jaw clench. He was pretty sure Clint hadn't meant anything double entendre-y with that. Their physical relationship had plateaued at a high-school, PG-13 level of making out. He had been getting the sense, lately, that she was frustrated with her own lack of progress, which probably wasn't helping the bad mood. No way in hell was he pushing her, or broaching a topic she hadn't brought up.

She turned on a heel and stalked away from Clint, past Wyatt and into his apartment. Lucky followed her, tail wagging. He gave Clint a salute, and then turned and followed Kate inside.

She'd flopped on his couch and Lucky was leaning on her legs. With a sigh, she put her arms around him and pressed her face into his fur.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said quietly.

"It's very frustrating," she replied, voice muffled.

“I know.” He sat next to her. “I remember when I thought I’d never fly again. It was awful.”

Releasing the dog, she sat up and leaned on him. "It just feels endless.”

“You strike me as someone who is well aware of how long healing takes.”

"All evidence indicates somewhere around for-fucking-ever.”

He rubbed her back. “Physical wounds are a little faster, I’ll give you that.”

"Yeah." She shifted to wrap her arms around him. "I'm sorry I've been bitchy. In retrospect, I'm not sure this was the best time to be starting a relationship. But here we are.”

“I think you’d be worse without me. So for everyone else’s sake, it’s good we’re doing this.”

She laughed a little and sighed. "Well, thank you for your sacrifice.”

“Eh, you’re worth the while most of the time.”

"Good to know." She kissed his cheek and sat up a bit. "If I'm to be forced to continue my inactivity, you should distract me. Are there any movies left we haven't watched?”

“No. We have watched every movie filmed in the last hundred-odd years.”

"I don't know, we watch a lot of movies.”

“I think all that’s left for us at this point is broadcast television.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze. "Wanna get us a snack and I'll see if I can find a police procedural or game show?”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll put some popcorn on. Don’t pick any of those shows that make you angry.”

"You're really limiting me here, Wyatt," she called after him as he went to the kitchen. A moment later, he heard the TV come on.

When the pop corn started to pop, Lucky wandered in, tail up, looking hopeful. “I don’t know if you should have any of this,” Wyatt told him. “Kate? Can he have popcorn?”

Silence from the other room. Lucky's ear quirked and he tilted his head back and forth. Slightly unnerved, Wyatt said, "Kate?" again. Still no answer. Lucky whined and headed back into the living room and Wyatt followed him.

She was sitting on the couch, right where he'd left her, and looked fine at first glance. Watching her, though, he realized she'd gone very pale, and was gripping the TV remote in a white knuckled hand.

He glanced at the TV to see a yapping news anchor, then looked back at her. “Kate?”

Jumping, she dropped the remote and looked up at him. "Sorry, what?”

Wyatt sat down next to her. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

"I'm trying very hard not to." She leaned down to pick up the remote and turned the TV off. "I shouldn't have stopped on the news.”

“Was it something about your father?” He looked around for a receptacle of some sort, should she actually be sick.

She shook her head, letting out a long, slow breath. After a couple more breaths, she reached out to take his hand. "I need air, can we go for a walk?”

Her grip was so tight it hurt, but all he said was, “Of course.”

He let her lead him out, leaving a rather confused Lucky behind. Once out of the building, she stopped to take a deep breath, then another, before looking at least a little better. Then she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.

“Hey,” he whispered, holding her close and rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

She nodded against his chest, but didn't let go. He tucked them into a quiet corner near the entrance and held her.

Finally, she lifted her head, eyes bright and nose red. "Sorry," she said softly.

“You want to talk about it?”

Sniffing a little, she rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I need to tell you.”

He expected this wasn’t going to be a sidewalk conversation. “Let’s go back inside.” After a hesitation, she nodded and took his hand, this time without crushing his bones, and went back into the lobby with him. She leaned against him in the elevator, and he kissed the top of her head.

She went to her apartment and he went to fetch Lucky for her, figuring he'd be a comfort to her. Sure enough, as soon as he let the dog inside, he beelined for Kate's side and leaned on her. Sinking down onto her couch, she dug her fingers into his fur and pet him.

It occurred to him they ought to get Lucky service dog papers one of these days. He sat across from her, just waiting for her to decide to speak.

"On the TV," she said finally. "They were talking about an NYU college student who was raped. I guess her attacker is the son of someone important so the case is making headlines." Lucky rested his head on her knee and she stroked him. Taking a deep breath she said, "When I was seventeen, I was coming home from a party. I took a short cut through a park. Four drunk college guys noticed me, harassed me, and ended up raping me.”

That was. . . worse than he expected. It had seemed pretty obvious to him based on her behavior with him that she’d been sexually assaulted or molested in some way. But she painted a particularly brutal picture. He reached out and touched her hand. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

Turning her hand, she wove her fingers into his, which he considered a good sign. "Afterwards I managed to get to help. Went to the hospital. I got a good look at two of them, insisted I'd be able to recognize them. My parents convinced me that if I pursued it and we went trial I'd the the one being judged. After all, I was in a skirt, out by myself in the middle of the night." She smiled bitterly. "I had a lot of bad days. And one day I decided I'd find my own justice. So I hunted down the two I'd seen, made them tell me who the others were. And I killed them.”

“Good for you,” he said, meaning it.

Her smile softened. "Yeah. That's what Clint said, too.”

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Happened to a friend of mine, who was afraid to report it. So I beat the shit out of the guy who did it. Somebody had to.”

"I'd wondered," she said, looking at him. "Based on what you said in your interview. Not a lot of crimes where the victim feels the shame.”

“Particularly in the kind of environment that exists on an aircraft carrier.”

"What happened to your friend? Do you keep in touch?”

He sighed. “No. I think the aftermath, how bad it got for me. . .it was too much. I understand. We lost touch.”

She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm sure she was grateful.”

“He,” Wyatt corrected, not surprised by the assumption. It seemed pretty common. “I can assure you there was no short skirt of any kind involved.”

Her brows went up in surprise. "Wow. I guess that adds to the desire not to come forward.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it a sign of weakness, though. You gotta do what keeps you sane.”

She nodded. "In retrospect, my parents were probably right that adding public scorn on top of everything wouldn't have done me any favors. And a trial would have made hunting them impossible if it went badly for me. But I do, sometimes, resent them a little for not stepping up for me.”

“People don’t know how to handle it. We as a society don’t know how to handle it.”

"Even people being sympathetic don't know how to handle it. None of my friends knew what to say. Eventually we just stopped calling each other." Slowly, she scooted closer and looped his arm around her, still holding it. "I didn't tell people because there's always a shift in how they look at me. At least there was until I told Clint. He treated me the same.”

“I will treat you the same,” he said immediately.

"I know," she said with a little laugh. "I trust you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for telling me.”

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Even Lucky relaxed, settling at their feet and dozing.

It was Kate who broke the silence. "I don't think I'm ready for sex yet. I'm getting there. But I was wondering if sometimes. . . you might want to sleep over. Just sleep. So I can get used to having you in my space.”

“That sounds like excellent progress. Though unless you’re going to build a pillow barrier between us we’re probably going to end up tangled together, and I. . .” Was there a tasteful way to say this? Probably not. “I have no control over what my dick does while I’m asleep.”

She laughed so hard she had to lean away from him and Lucky raised his head. "Oh, my God.”

“What?” He shook his head. “Have you never shared a bed with a man?”

She shook her head. "My voluntary sexual counters were two teenage boyfriends and two one-nights stands, one of which ended in me freaking out and abruptly leaving.”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m sorry. Well. Ask the other women. Waking up in the morning to being awkwardly poked in the thigh is apparently common.”

Wiping away a tear, she caught her breath and leaned over to kiss him. "I promise not to kick you. I might fling myself out of bed. But I promise not to hurt you in the process.”

“You could try wearing curlers, a face mask, and flannel nightgown to bed. That might help me have non X-rated dreams.”

"My hair doesn't curl and face masks give me rashes but I'll take the flannel under advisement.”

“If anything freaks you out, I live just across the hall, I can go home in the middle of the night.”

"Right." She resettled on his shoulder. "I think it'll be a good step. Having people in my bubble is as weird to me sometimes as the thought of being intimate. But I've gotten used to Lucky being around, maybe he's good training.”

He leaned down to kiss her. “Sounds good.”

*

The next morning, Kate felt a little out of sorts. The rest of the night had gone well. They'd found a movie to agree on and ordered pizza, at least two slices of which Lucky had managed to steal. Kate had a sneaking suspicion he'd lived on pizza while on the streets. Wyatt gone back to his apartment and she'd gone to bed alone, save for the pizza thief. Talking about the attack stirred up a lot of shit, probably wasn't the best time to change sleeping arrangements. Wyatt, as always, let her set the pace. And she'd rather enjoyed the heady, seven minute good-night kiss they'd shared before he left.

Now she was still feeling grumpy and restless. Sleep had been a long time coming and she was pretty sure she'd had dreams, but couldn't remember them all. She got up early and took Lucky for a run - approved by both her PT and Clint, so it was fast becoming her favorite form of exercise. But even after pushing herself and a long, hot shower, she had the sense of not fitting in her skin just right.

In the end, she turned the TV on, hoping for something mindless, but instead, hunted down someone talking about the rape case she'd seen a glimpse of earlier. Then she looked up some articles online. Then she went downstairs to Darcy Bennet's office.

“I’m not going to help you end-run around either Clint or Amanda. They both scare me.” That was the greeting she got from Darcy.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Tess was on the scary list yet, too, but decided against it. Instead, she asked, "I'm not here for that. Have you heard about the rape case they're talking about on the news? The college girl? They haven't released her name.”

Darcy sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

"Do you. . . Do you think you could figure out who she is? Get me in touch with her?”

The other woman studied her for a moment. “I can try.”

"Thank you." Maybe she'd get out of this without having to give anything away. Though Darcy was as sharp as anyone else in the building and had probably figured enough out to not ask questions.

“I’ll let you know what I dig up,” she said.

Lingering wouldn't make it happen faster, so she nodded and left, still at a loss what to do with herself. Man, she needed a hobby.

"FRIDAY? Where's Clint?" Bugging Clint was a hobby, right?

“Mr. Barton is in his apartment, eating nachos.”

Excellent. FRIDAY had been instructed to inform her what Clint was doing after an extremely awkward day when she had walked in on him and Nat getting busy on the couch. Seeing a father figure's ass did nothing for one's mental health.

She went up to the Grownup's floor and knocked before sticking her head in. "It's me. I'm here not doing anything still.”

He held up his plate—it was in fact nachos. “Hungry?”

"Sure." She took her spot on the couch and stole a chip. "I told Wyatt.”

“How’d that go?”

"Good. Mostly. I mean, it was preceded by a panic attack and burnt popcorn but the actual telling wasn't bad. Lucky helped."

“Only you would find a service dog in an alley in Chinatown.”

"He's a good boy," she insisted around a mouthful of chips. "Anyway." She stood to go get herself a drink. "We're going to try sharing a bed without sex. I think I need to get used to having him in my personal space.”

“It’s not a bad idea. You don’t think accidental touching would freak you out?”

"No way to be sure till I try. But I trust him. I like to think that'll help." She came back with one of the weird apple sodas Nat loved. "He warned me about morning wood. Men are weird.”

“Women are weird, too,” he said mildly.

"Some of us more than others," she conceded, flopping back onto the couch.

“You know, sometimes I think you really ought to have these conversations with Nat.”

She frowned and looked over at him. "I like having them with you.”

“I know. I just meant. . . she knows more about women things. She has, if you can believe it, more baggage about sex than you do.”

Given what she knew about Nat's history, she didn't doubt that. "I like your method of advice/comfort better," she told him. "Nat's very. . . Russian about stuff.”

Clint laughed. “I’ll give you that.”

"I feel like any sex advice would be pertinent and helpful, but also involve how to hide the body if it all goes wrong.”

That got her a grin. “If you had any idea how to hide bodies we’d never have met.”

"It is an obvious gap in knowledge." She swirled her soda and took another swig. "Have you seen the rape case that's been in the news?”

“I have.” He looked over at her. “Thinking of going hunting?”

It didn't surprise her that was his first thought. Clint was, in his heart, an assassin. And a firm believer that some people didn't deserve life. "Not yet. I asked Darcy to try to find her, so I could call her." He was still looking at her. She sighed. "I remember how lonely and. . . isolating it felt. I thought, maybe having a superhero tell you they've been there would help.”

“You really have come a long way, you know that?”

She didn't really know what to say to that. She tried not to spend a lot of time analyzing her mental state. But she'd had to face a lot of things head on recently and found her reactions were less volatile than they'd once been. "I'm not angry anymore," she said thoughtfully. "Not like I was. There's still this. . . sore spot if I poke at it. But the rage is gone.”

“That’s good. The anger is the most toxic.”

She nodded, then added quietly, "You helped a lot.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo.” He paused. “And you did the heavy lifting.”

There had been a time she'd thought the rest of her life would be heavy lifting. Now she was planning on inviting a guy into her bed. The difference support and love made.

She leaned her head on Clint's shoulder. "Well, thanks anyhow.”

“Now might be the time to tell you, it was mostly for selfish reasons.”

"So your protege would stop being such a bitch?”

“No, because Nat and I don’t have any kids and I need someone to take care of me when I’m old and feeble. That cat’s not gonna do it. We discussed adoption once, and then you fell in my lap, and I thought. . . well, this one has less paperwork.”

She laughed. "Sure, Barton. I'll change your diapers when the time comes.”

“If there are diapers, just kill me. Arrow in the eye.”

"I'm going to need that written down and certified before you get too feeble.”

“I will have a formal legal document drawn up. It will specify the arrow.”

"Very thorough."

The front door slid open and Nat came in, carrying a couple of canvas shopping bags. She took in Kate's head on Clint's shoulder, her sugary soda and the decimated plate of nachos and frowned. "Is something wrong? Are we killing Wyatt? Do I need to go get ingredients for sympathy borscht?”

“No, we’re discussing how I will be humanely euthanized when I become enfeebled,” Clint told her.

"Ah." She nodded sagely. "Very important." She walked past them to carry her bags to the kitchen. "Kate, can you cook Chinese food?"

Nat had, for as long at Kate had know her, been a bit of a foodie, always with a new food obsession. Last year she'd decided to perfect Moroccan food. The year before had been French. There'd been a summer of complicated baked goods as well. Cassie had a theory she had an anonymous food blog and was on a mission to find it.

"I can make food they eat in China," she called back. "Not the shit they deliver from Emperor Dragon."

"Perfect. Come teach me."

Kate gave Clint a confused look and got only a shrug in return. So she downed the last of her soda, stood up and went to go teach a retired Russian spy turned superhero how to make bao.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a remarkably fun way to spend an evening, especially because their eventual product was delicious and the first good bao she'd had in a long time. Nat whipped up a chocolate mousse for dessert and for a couple hours Kate didn't think about her demons or her injury or all the complications in her life.

She was in such a good mood that when she left their apartment she pulled her phone out and texted Wyatt, _Come over tonight?_

The reply was immediate. _Want me to bring food?_

Taking a deep breath, she replied, _Just you. And some pajamas._

_I’ll be over in ten minutes_

She made her way downstairs to her place. Clint had taken Lucky for a walk while she was cooking with Nat. He was still lounging on his big bed in the living room, but lifted his head and chuffed at her when she came in. She didn't know what Clint did with him but he always left the poor guy exhausted the rest of the day.

"Wyatt's coming over," she told the dog, because saying it out loud made it real. "He's going to spend the night.

Lucky chuffed again and lowered his head, unconcerned.

She fussed about, aimlessly straightening things, until FRIDAY announced he was at the door. She firmly ignored the flare of panicked nerves that caused. It was just like any other evening her came over. It was fine. "Let him in," she told FRIDAY.

The door opened and Wyatt came in, bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey.” 

"Hi." She didn't comment on the bag, though later she might tease him for having to pack to stay across the hall for a night. Instead she went over to meet him, kissing him hello.

They had moved, very slowly, past the innocent and chaste kisses. She'd rather enjoyed that slow climb in intensity. He was, in her limited experience, an excellent kisser. And the degree to which she enjoyed getting lost in him, surrounded by his arms, gave her hope for the future.

He rested his forehead on hers. “Have a good day?”

"I did," she told him. "I taught Nat how to make bao.”

“The only thing of use I did today was troll the hallway for pajamas.”

She grinned, though her cheeks were warm. "Do you usually sleep naked?”

“Yes, and I figured it would make you uncomfortable. I actually had to go downstairs—Sharon Rogers had Captain America-themed old man pajamas. I didn’t ask why.”

Kate laughed. "I find that less creepy than you wearing, like Nate's or something.”

“They still smell a little like plastic, so I’m not sure they’ve been washed, much less worn.”

"Even better." She stroked her hands down his arms. "I'm not really sure how to do this without making it awkward.”

“I think we just lay down and go to sleep when we’re tired. That’s generally how it goes.”

Wyatt's unflappabilty has made a lot of this easier. "Wanna start with mindless TV then?”

He grinned. “That we don’t actually watch?”

"We do stop to breathe occasionally.”

He kissed her gently. “Don’t make me take that as a challenge.”

Twenty minutes later, making out on her couch, she surprised both of them by leaning back and peeling off her shirt. He watched her a moment. “I thought we were just sleeping?”

"We are." She was pretty confident the shirt was the only thing coming off. "I just thought. . . I was ready for the making out to progress a little, too. And I kind of want to see yours." She plucked at his shirt. "If you don't want to, I'll put it back on.”

He laughed, leaning forward to yank his t-shirt over his head. “No, I look great without a shirt on.”

She grinned widely, the pleasure of looking at him washing away any nerve she might have been feeling. "Yes, you do," she told him, flattening her palms on his chest and sliding them over the smooth skin, prickly with a light dusting of hair.

He watched her hands. “So I have kind of a crazy idea.”

"I'm listening," she said, looking up at him.

“What if you tied me down?”

Leaning back, she considered it. It would give her a bit of freedom, time to touch him and get used to it without worrying he'd do something - however accidentally - to trigger her. She did, kind of, want to feel his hands on her. But ties could be untied, once she was comfortable.

"Might be fun," she said.

“Get something sturdy I can’t get out of. I trust you. And FRIDAY will send someone if you should happen to keel over.”

She probably had some rope in the closet, but she didn't want to hurt him. Silk had high tensile strength and she'd gone through a scarf phase last winter that had left her with a drawerful of them.

Climbing off him, she held out a hand. "Come on. I have a good headboard.”

He blinked and then grinned at her. “Seriously? Like right now?” The face a man made when he realized he might get some was as universal and predictable as the sun.

"I'm not saying sex," Seemed important she get that on the table. "When we get there I'd really like to be comfortable enough to have you be in charge. But I'm thinking this might get me there a little quicker. And in the mean time, kinky nudity is always fun.”

He stood up. “Honey, if we get this relationship out of middle school it would make my night.”

She laughed, because it was said with no ire or impatience, only excitement of getting to the next step. She lead him back to her bedroom and pointed to the bed while she went digging for ties. Her headboard was plain dark wood, but it had slight posts, enough to tie a scarf to. And if he got desperate, he could probably yank the tie up and off with a little maneuvering.

It required tying a couple scarves together to reach - she didn't want to strain his arms - but in the end she was quite happy with the result.

"You sure you're not sneaking in some Dragon Lady dominatrix fetish?" she teased as she straddled his lap.

“Not that I know of. But this is pretty hot, if I’m being honest. Will you take your bra off?”

Had you asked her, at any point in her life, if she wanted to tie a guy to her bed and have him at her mercy, she probably would have wrinkled her nose at the idea. But the sight of him, and the hopeful, polite way he asked that, did all kinds of things to her.

Without a word, she reached back and undid her bra, letting it slide off her arms. She tossed it aside and sat a moment, letting him look his fill. Then she leaned forward, letting her nipples drag slowly along his torso, before claiming his mouth in a hot, wet kiss. She felt a shudder pass through him, and he made a little growling noise—but otherwise he couldn’t really move.

Pausing to catch her breath, she pressed little kisses along his jaw, running her nails down his sides. He squirmed and she hid a grin, filing away his ticklish spots for later abuse.

“Be nice,” he murmured.

"I think I'm being very nice." She kissed down his throat and across his chest, hands still stroking. "You're very warm," she told him.

“I am from an arctic people.”

"Mmm." She finished her slow exploration, kissing back up his neck to his mouth. The she shifted up onto her knees so that her breasts were in line with his mouth. "Your turn.” He made a humming noise and leaned his head up to capture her nipple.

The sensation sent heat pouring through her, melting her insides. Digging her fingers into his hair, she held him to her, relaxing. On one particularly hard pull, she moaned, rocking against him. He was hard now, she could feel it pressing against her ass. She ground against him a little, most of her attention on what he was doing to her. The hard ridge was distracting, but not panic inducing, so she decided not to overthink it.

She tried to picture them without their jeans on, naked and bare inches apart. The mental image sent a rush of wet heat between her legs and she squeezed his hips with her thighs. He responded with the scrape of teeth on her breast and she shuddered.

She knew she wasn't quite ready for sex. She wasn't even sure she wanted visual confirmation of his erection. But she was suddenly very curious to feel him, to connect with him. Shifting a little, she reached between them and unbuttoned the very top of his fly, then slipped her hand beneath the denim to stroke her fingers along his length. He released her breast to gasp, “Fuck.”

Grinning, she watched his face as she worked more of her hand in and wrapped it around his cock. He was hard and hot, skin velvety soft under her palm. She stroked him and whispered, "Tell me how you like it.”

His eyelids fluttered. It was powerful, having a man at your mercy like this. “Faster,” he whispered.

Rocking back on her heels, she did as he asked. His jeans had been shoved mostly down to give her room and while she focused mostly on his face and the fascinating expressions playing out there, she caught glimpses of a thatch of dark hair and the broad, slick head of his cock disappearing and reappearing between her fingers. The sight caused her inner muscles to clench and her clit to throb. She was trying to check in with herself and not get too caught up in arousal. But there was no nerves, no fear. This was the fun, messy, awkward sex she dimly remembered from stolen moments in borrowed bedrooms. This was exploring and experimenting with someone she cared about and found sexy and interesting and worth risking her heart with.

His chest rose and fell as he breathed harder. She could see the muscles in his arms tense as he pulled against the ties. She knew it was unconscious, and it didn’t scare her. “Kate,” he said, strain evident in his voice. “Katie. Come here.”

The flutters that caused in her also had nothing to do with fear. Without having to think about it, she shifted forward again, bracing a hand on the headboard behind him. He leaned up towards her, pulling the ties again, so he could get close enough to kiss her. She sank into the kiss, letting go of the bed to weave her fingers into his hair. He put a lot into his kiss, desperation, need. She knew, without a doubt, if she untied his hands he'd touch her, do anything she asked. Her body throbbed at the idea of it, his hand buried between her legs, stroking her like she did him.

He broke the kiss. “If you want to stop, you have to do it right now.”

She grinned, heart squeezing. God she loved his guy.

Immediately, she shoved that thought away and said, "I'm an archer, I can do this all fucking night, babe.”

Wyatt groaned, eyes closing. She felt his body shudder, and then he came in her hand.

That was just as messy and undignified as she remembered from her teen years. Though, he looked a hell of a lot hotter than her skinny high school boyfriend. She stilled her hand, holding him until his hips stopped rocking. Then she carefully released him. When she was pretty sure he'd calmed enough not to pounce on her, she untied first his left hand, then his right, swinging her leg over to unstraddle him and sit next to him. He watched her, eyes dark. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Her clit pulsed at the words. She was so aroused her jeans had grown uncomfortable and she was pretty sure if she didn't come soon she was never going to sleep. She was also sure if she pointed to the door he'd gather up his stuff and go back to his apartment without a word. But the thought made her stomach sink and her heart ache.

So she nodded and reached down to unsnap her jeans and wiggle them down. He waited, and then he rolled onto his side and just watched her for a moment. Then he reached out, spreading his hand on her thigh and sliding it slowly upwards.

Her breath caught and sped up. His hand on her was even sexier than she'd imagined it. Anticipations curled and tightened in her and she was a little surprised at the whimper that escaped her as he got higher. “This okay?” he whispered, moving this hand between her legs, and she nodded because she couldn’t really form words. Then his fingertip slid over her clit.

She let out a gasp that turned into a moan when he repeated the stroke. Her legs trembled and she spread them wider, opening herself to him. His finger tips were rough, subtly different than her own. He explored her, sliding up and down, swirling around. She was so wound up it all felt incredible, causing pleasure to twist and tighten in her. 

“I want to make you come,” he said, his voice as gentle as ever, but laced with lust. “I want to give you pleasure.”

Another little whimper bubbled out of her. Fumbling, she reached down and pressed his fingers where she needed them to be, showed him the pace and pressure. When he mimicked it exactly it sent fireworks through her. She tossed her head back, clutching a fistful of blanket. "Yes, fuck, just like that,”

He did it again and again. Precise, perfect. “I can do this all night, too,” he told her.

She moaned in response, relaxing into the touch. In the absolute wonder of someone touching her and pleasing her. When she got closer she begged him for faster and he gave it to her, still perfect. Pleasure twisted and pulsed inside her before snapping. She made a noise that was as much surprise as pleasure, shaking with the force of it. For an endless moment there was nothing but his hand and his voice and the rough waves of bliss that flooded her.

Gradually his hand slowed, and he pulled it away. She had a sudden, desperate desire not to stop touching him. To keep the connection. She reached to grab his hand just to hold on. He opened his and laced their fingers together.

Mumbling his name, she rolled towards him and he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her as she cuddled against his chest. As her skin cooled and her heart stopped pounding, it occurred to her she was fully naked with a man for the first time in years. And, miraculously, she was totally okay with it. 

He kissed her again, tender and slow, one hand reaching up to slowly sift through her hair. He was so careful with her. There was no one else she could picture being this patient with her.

They kissed for a long time, growing sleepy and lazy. "Thanks," she said softly.

“That was awesome. That was at least. . .11th grade.”

She laughed. "Quite a productive night.”

There was a moment of quiet before he said, “Can I take my pants off? Otherwise I’ll go get the pajamas because I’m not sleeping in these jeans.”

After a moment's consideration, she said, "I think the pjs are a good idea. I cannot promise not-really-awake me will be as sanguine.”

“Got it.” He rolled and swung his legs off the bed, pulling his jeans up before going into the living room. He came back a few minutes later, wearing an undershirt and pajama bottoms, which were covered with WWII Captain America posters. “Sharon didn’t mention they actually had Steve’s face on them,” he said as he came back to bed.

She'd taken the opportunity to change into a nightgown - satin not flannel - and pull the sheets down. Her original plan was a pajama set, but it now seemed like overkill. "At least they're not Hawkeye pajamas. I would need you to leave if you had Clint's face on you pants.”

“A little too Dad-like?” He climbed under the covers and reached for her.

"Little bit." She shifted closer and settled at his side, head pillowed on his shoulder. His fingers traced little patterns on his arm and she shivered, burrowing against him. "I'm going to leech all your heat," she informed him.

He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of his scent. And believed him.

*

Wyatt woke up in the darkness, taking a moment to orient himself since he was in an unfamiliar place. Also, Kate was so thoroughly wrapped around him she was practically on top of him. That must have been what woke him up. Though they had passed out pretty early.

He rubbed her back, hoping to roust her enough to move. She stirred and stretched, then went still as she realized she was with someone. Then relaxed when she recognized him. "What time is it?" she mumbled.

“It’s still dark out, I don’t think I want to know.”

She laughed a little and took a moment to un-octopus herself from him. "Clearly we didn't wear each other out sufficiently.”

“That an invitation?”

There was a pause while she thought about it. "I don't think so? I'm enjoying the cuddling. Not sure I have an immediate need to push past that.”

He’d mostly expected that. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I ask that sort of thing?”

"No. Not at all. It helps. Sometimes I want things but I feel self conscious about asking or don't know how to phrase it. When you ask it gives me the opening." Her fingers traced a patter on his chest. "Like earlier, after I got you off and you asked to touch me. I wanted it, but didn't know how to say it.”

“Asking seemed like I good way not to get stabbed in the head.”

"I like you at least partially for your sense of self preservation." She tilted her head and he could see her studying him in the dim light. "It occurs to me. . . now that we're venturing into unexplored territory we should probably talk about rules and procedures. When we're not all horny and caught up in the moment.”

“Yeah. Those things are better discussed calmly.”

After a little pause she said, almost reluctantly, "There's still gonna be days I'm all touched out after some middle school necking.”

He considered that a moment. “You know they make remote controlled vibrators.”

"I assure you I am well versed in the wide plethora of sex toys.”

“Phone sex is pretty hot, too. We could even do it while laying in the same bed and not touching.” He looked at her. “I mean—I assumed you meant you’d be turned on yet not want to be touched. If you’re not in the mood I assure you I’m not a caveman.”

"No, I know. You get as far as you do because I'm confident I can say no." She dropped a little kiss on his chest, like a reward or confirmation. "I liked last night because I felt connected. Believe it or not, having to stop has been frustrating for me, too. Finding ways to find connection without the touching would be great.”

“We can do that. I think I would enjoy watching you come, even if I wasn’t doing it.”

He could hear her grinning. "Yeah. And the phone sex sounds fun. We probably need to embrace dirty talk. I think having you sort of. . . narrate what you want to do would turn me on and put me at ease.”

“Lucky for you I’m good at talking. And actually being a pilot involves a surprising amount of self narration.”

"I can only imagine." One of her hands had wandered up and was now playing with his hair. "If I'm ever not in the mood and you need to take care of yourself, you can just say so or something. I won't be offended and weirded out.”

“Will you feel guilty?”

After an almost worryingly long pause, she said, "I'll try not to. I want you to be happy. I'm never going to be an easy person to be with, especially in this area. I'd rather give you the freedom to take care of yourself than worry I'm letting you down or frustrating you.”

“I expect if you’re not in the mood we won’t have wound ourselves up in the first place.”

"That's an excellent point. I just wanted to cover our bases.”

He stroked his fingers along her arm. “There are all different ways to have sex.”

"There are." She nuzzled at his shoulder. "I admit, the idea of experimenting is appealing. Options take a lot of the pressure off.”

He felt so protective of her. She’d probably be offended that he did, but he could see parts of her were fragile. That she’d given him a lot of trust, in a way he knew was hard for her, and in return he had an obligation not to fuck it up. “We’ll work our way through it. Like kids learning.”

"I'd like that. I was just getting started when-" She broke of and pressed closer and he held her tight, since it was what she seemed to need. "I remember liking sex," she said finally, voice soft. "And that was with inexperienced teenage boys. So I'm really looking forward to trying it with someone who knows what he's doing.”

“I’m in this for the distance. We’ll take our time.”

"Okay," she said quietly. He held her in the dark, rubbing her back gently, hand sliding over the satin of her night gown. She played with his hair, fingers occasionally brushing his neck and shoulder. Her fingers slowed and he thought she might be falling asleep when she murmured, “Wyatt?"

“Mmm?”

"I'd like you to. . . touch me again. If you're still awake.”

He grinned. “Well I am _now_.”

Her body seemed to soften against him, tension he hadn't noticed melting away. The slick fabric of her gown slid against him as she stretched up to kiss him. "Good."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while but this chapter is super long and exciting to make up for it.

They entertained themselves until dawn, and then dozed some more. They were woken this time by FRIDAY, because Ada was looking for Kate. 

She sat up, looking rumpled and grumpy. "Put her through." There was a little chiming noise to indicate it was done and she added, "What's up, Ada?”

"Can you come to the lab? I have something for you."

She arched a brow. "Is it a good something?"

"Of course. Duh." Her tone of voice was very. . . teenager.

"Right. I'll be up in a minute." She waited a beat for the feed to close, then leaned over to slump on Wyatt before whining, "But you're all nice and muscley and the bed is warm."

"All of those things will continue to be true later."

Grumbling wordlessly, she kissed his shoulder and sat up. "You want to come see what the littlest mad-scientist has for me?"

He sat up, too. "Absolutely."

Kate ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower and he headed back to his apartment to get dressed. When he met her in the hallway about twenty minutes later she held out a travel cup of hot tea. "In case I forget," she said as they walked to the elevator. "Thank you again for last night. I have no regrets."

"Good. I had fun."

She nodded and held his hand as she sipped her tea. They hand't been particularly "out" with their relationship up until now. Walking out of the elevator into Ada's lab while holding hands was probably as good as taking an ad in the company newsletter.

Ada looked up when they entered. She clapped her hands. "Hi, are you guys out of the closet?"

Kate glanced down at their hands and sipped her tea again. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"The team is pairing up. Opposites attract is bullshit, people gravitate to people who are like them. It's only logical that this should start happening. We are so unique we're a tribe. We'll inbreed." She ducked under her table and rattled around. "I thought about starting a betting pool after Tess and Eli." 

"I'll put money on Kamala _not_ hooking up with any of the remaining boys," Kate offered.

She shrugged. “Inertia is a powerful thing.”

Wyatt’s gaze wandered, looking at the posters decorating the walls. Art prints, vintage movie posters and quotes in quirky fonts. It was very. . . dorm room. Though they were at least all framed instead of just taped up. 

There was also a little collection of family pictures, including a much-younger Ada surrounded by what looked like at least a half a dozen infants. She was grinning proudly in the center. The Avengers family certainly did procreate a lot.

"Holy shit, that's _awesome_ ," Kate said, having walked over to Ada's work table to see her latest gadget.

He looked up to see Ada holding up a crossbow. “It will shoot all your trick arrows,” she said. “Even the exploding ones.”

"And I can use it totally one-handed?"

"You can fire it one handed, you'll probably need both to load, but it shouldn't stress your injury."

Kate bounced on her toes, looking rather adorably excited. "Can I go try it out?”

“I figured you’d want to.”

She turned to Wyatt. "I get to shoot things like a steam punk vampire hunter."

"It is _so_ nice to have someone who gets it," Ada said with a happy sigh.

“If you built me a brass-plated dirigible I would absolutely fly it,” Wyatt offered.

Her eyes lit up. "I bet I could get lift with a low output reactor instead of messing with gases.”

He grinned. “You just let me know.”

"I will totally blame you when the Grownups catch me," she assured him.

After a quite walkthrough of the various functions on the crossbow, they said their goodbyes and headed down to the armory for Kate's arrows.

“You know your arrow-related joy faces and your sex faces are remarkably similar.”

She didn't even look up from assembling her quiver. "I'm sure Lani would have a field day with that information. Eli says I look like I'm tending to my children.”

“You have a very expressive face.”

Tucking the last of the arrows in the case she slung it over her shoulder and looked up at him. "Only with people I trust.”

He bent down to kiss her. “I’ll take it.”

She hummed in pleasure at the kiss. "Now c'mon. You can watch your girl massacre some dummies.”

“Maybe someday we can lock ourselves in the range and. . .”

Her cheeks pinked but she grinned. "I can guarantee you we would not be the first.”

He frowned. “Didn’t need to know that.”

"I didn't either, but I have to and now, so do you.”

Once on the range it took her a few rounds to get into the swing of the new weapon. But after an hour or so she was hitting bullseyes with every arrow. "This is great," she said, lining up her next shot. "I may keep this in the rotation even after my arm heals up.”

“Ada’s good people,” Wyatt told her.

"Yeah. She wants to help." She took her shot and hit dead center once again, before putting the crossbow down and stretching her arms up. "I should probably not stress myself. Or people will yell at me.”

“Not injuring yourself isn’t enough motivation?”

That seemed to give her pause, despite it being a mostly flippant question. "I generally don't think about hurting myself," she admitted finally.

“Maybe you should.” He leaned against the wall, watching her. “People care about you.”

She fidgeted with something on the wall so the targets would bring her arrows back. "I know. Hence the yelling at me.”

“We are often careless with things we don’t value.”

Her lips pursed, but she didn't look at him. Clearly that had hit the mark. "I'm better than I used to be.”

She’d once looked so hard and unbreakable to him. Now that he’d seen that she wasn’t—that he’d seen what was underneath—he couldn’t get it out of his head. He had a crazy urge to protect her, even though she was probably better than him in any kind of fight. “Good. I’m not really one for yelling.”

Now she looked over at him, smiling a little. “Good."

He cleared his throat. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

After a hesitation, she reached over to brush her knuckle over the back of his hand. "You show you care in other ways.”

He hooked his pinky around hers. “I hope so.” 

"You wanna go out?" she asked almost shyly. "Do something date like?”

He grinned. “If we’re out in the open, let’s be out in the open.”

"Yes. I'd like to do. . . normal things with you.”

He pushed off the wall and gave her hand a tug. “Let’s go get the dog and find something fun to do in the park. Tonight I’ll take you out to dinner and later try to awkwardly cop a feel.”

Scooping up her crossbow, she let him lead her out of the training room. "Sounds like fun."

*

It was the first afternoon Kate had spent in a park since she was a teenager. Lucky romped, making friends with a golden retriever and some sort of fancy poodle mix. She and Wyatt took turns throwing his ball for him and apologizing to other dog owners when he stole their balls. Wyatt bought her a cart dog and a soda which was good enough she didn't share with Lucky, even with the enormous puppy eyes he gave her.

Strolling back towards the street, Lucky was all but dragging his paws. "I think we officially wore out the dog.”

“He will feast and sleep well tonight.”

Without thinking about it, Kate tucked her arm into Wyatt's, leaning into him. "We should do the same.”

“Any chance we could insert some necking between dinner and sleep?”

She loved that it was a question. That there was no assumption. "Outlook excellent," she assured him.

“Then it will be a victorious day.” He looked down at her. “Go out, eat in?”

Had Lucky been less tired he probably would have alerted her earlier. If she'd been less distracted and trying to focus on being in the moment and enjoying her time with Wyatt she probably would have noticed them being watched. Later, she couldn't explain what tipped her off. Maybe there'd been a sound or a flash of metal in the sun. Maybe she'd smelled gun oil. Maybe you just didn't spend as much time with Clint and Nat as she did without developing a healthy sense of paranoia.

In any case, between one step and the other all her senses went on alert. She gave Wyatt a good hard shove, knocking them both off the path just as a gunshot rang out. He landed on the grass and she crashed on top of him. She lost her grip on Lucky’s leash, but he caught it. He rolled to grab his collar to get him down and another bullet tore up the dirt where his shoulder had been.

Oh fuck that. No one shot her boyfriend or her dog.

Based on the impact in the dirt it was close range, not a sniper. She rolled away from the other two and scanned the area. People were screaming and scattering, but she caught the dull sheen of metal and focused in on a heavy-set Chinese guy in a dark jacket. He was lining up another shot but saw her spot him and faltered.

Which was all the pause she needed to get her feet under her and start sprinting. He whirled and fled.

“Kate!” Wyatt yelled. She didn’t look to see if he’d run after her.

She kept a visual on the guy for a good while, despite the crowd. Then he hit the tree line just before the street. When she hit the sidewalk on the other side there was no sign of him. A stitch was starting to form in her side and she pressed a hand to it, turning this way and that, hoping for a glance. "Fuck," she hissed out.

Wyatt emerged from the trees a moment later with Lucky. He always carried a knife—told her it was a hick thing—and he had it in his hand. “Lost him?” he asked, catching his breath.

She nodded and leaned forward to ease the cramp. Surreptitiously, she glanced to make sure it was just a cramp and she hadn't been hit. To her relief, there was no blood. "You okay?" she asked Wyatt. 

"Yeah." He crouched down to inspect Lucky. "He looks okay, too."

Kate let out a breath and bent to pet him, ruffling his fur. "Good boy." In the distance she heard sirens. "We should probably check in with the Tower before we end up on the news."

Wyatt straightened. "Someone took a shot at an Avenger in the middle of Central Park in broad daylight. I think that's going to end up on the news."

"Not if we make ourselves scarce," she pointed out.

He pulled out his phone and reached for her arm. "Come on."

"Yes, dear," she said, falling into step with him. Lucky was pulling towards her, so she took his leash to free up one of Wyatt's hands.

She watched the crowd, the buildings, while he hailed a cab and talked to whomever he'd called. She couldn't tell, but she'd bet money it was Clint. He nudged her into the cab first. The driver gave Lucky a skeptical look but she met his gaze and said, "He's a therapy dog," to cut off any objections.

Wyatt pulled out a fifty and held it over the seat. "Stark Tower."

"On it, boss," the guy said, pulling away from the curb.

Kate arranged Lucky mostly in her lap and carefully pet his side, focusing on the brindle patterns in her fur until her heart beat calmed. Only then did she look over at Wyatt. "We gonna have a welcoming committee?"

"Clint said to come up to their apartment. Probably so he can inspect you. They're going to put the building on lockdown once we get there."

She nodded. Inspection and possible lecture from Clint was probably best case scenario. Reaching across the seat, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"You saw the shooter?"

"Yeah. Enough for an ID."

She could see him watching out the windows, surveying the street as they crawled up through traffic. "Keep your head down, just in case."

"I doubt he'd following us," she said quietly. "He was gone by the time I hit the street, he must have had a getaway car waiting."

"Well, keep your head down anyway," he said, his voice surprisingly sharp. "We're almost there."

She stared at him a moment, very aware they had an audience. She was not going to be that person picking a fight in the back of a cab. So she took a long, slow breath and bit back what she wanted to say.

Wyatt told the cabbie to take them into the private garage, leaning out the window to put his palm print on the scanner that opened the gate. It was only then that the cabbie turned around and looked at her again. "You're Kate Bishop."

Her brows arched. She didn't get recognized much, not like Eli or Kamala did. Though she hadn't quite perfected Clint's anti-camera radar. "I am."

"Huh. Didn't know you had a dog."

"The gate's up," Wyatt snapped. "Drive."

With a sniff, the driver did as ordered, pulling into the garage and taking them right up to the elevators. Kate didn't wait for Wyatt, climbing out and clicking her tongue for Lucky to follow. "Just head back up the ramp," she told the cabbie. "Gate opens automatically."

Wyatt followed her into the elevator up, and when the doors closed he leaned against the wall, tipped his head back and let out a sigh.

Crossing her arms, she watched him, then said in the calmest voice she was capable of, "You said you don't show you care by yelling. So I'm guessing this is what, anger?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Uh, fear, actually. With a side helping of my boss yelling at me. Growling. He doesn't yell. But mostly fear."

Okay. Fear she could handle. Anger would have been a fight. Fear she understood. Pushing off the wall, she went over and hugged him. "He won't growl at you. You didn't do anything."

He hugged her tight, and she felt him press his face into her hair. "He already did. On the phone."

She rubbed his back. "Well, I will growl at him for that."

"Right now I could give two shits about Barton being mad. I'm just happy you're safe."

"I'm sorry I scared you," she said.

"Almost getting shot didn't help. And then you chased him."

"I'm a superhero. That's kind of what I do. Fighting bad guys and all."

He sighed again. "I know, but you're not bulletproof."

"I know." She leaned back. "But I am who I am. Someday I'm going to be on missions again. And you're going to have to sit in the jet and watch me walk into danger. That's a fact of being with me." She rubbed his arm, only now noticing how casually she'd touched him. "You're gonna have to find how to deal with that."

"I can compartmentalize. This wasn't a mission, it was a walk through the park. And you just—" The elevator pinged and the door opened, cutting him off.

She took his hand and squeezed. "Come on. Let's deal with Clint."

He held her hand and they stepped out. Clint was two feet on the other side, they almost ran into him. "Are you all right? Who the hell shot at you?"

"We're all fine," Kate said. "And I'm pretty sure it was someone from the Chinese mafia."

Clint blinked, and stared. " _Why?_ "

On the bright side, this would probably turn his ire away from Wyatt. "Because my dad is involved with them and I've been staking out one of his warehouses to see how deeply?"

"Your. . . _shit_ " He backed away. "FRIDAY, get my wife up here. And Barnes."

She was a little flummoxed at the inclusion of Barnes, but Clint was now pointing to his apartment door with an expression that booked no discussion. She looked up at Wyatt. "Run. You still have a chance."

His grip on her hand tightened. "I got your six."

Later, she'd figure some way to reward him for that. For now, she held his hand as tight as she could, gripped Lucky's leash just as hard, and headed into Clint's apartment.

*

It was Nat who was the first to say they needed to tell Steve. Kate insisted that if they were doing that she wanted to tell Eli. It very quickly became everybody. Whatever part of Kate that was rattled by this had clearly been shoved down and she was in Leader Mode. Wyatt took the dog and sat in a corner to watch—that was really all there was for him to do.

She went through the story brusquely and efficiently, like she was debriefing a mission. Overhearing her father's conversation, researching his holdings, the sketchy warehouse, right up to the assassination attempt this afternoon. That got a few gasps and questions and Kate assured them they were all fine before anyone could kick up much of a fuss.

"I'm not understanding this," Eli said. "Do they not know who you are?"

"They may not care. Or that could be why they went for an anonymous hit in the park rather than intimidation."

"Apparently it's been too many years since The Great Hunting Trip," Clint muttered.

"What's the great hunting trip?" Nate asked.

"When Steve got shot in '16 Clint and I went on a rampage," Barnes said. "Killed off a bunch of Hydra people connected to it, sent a pretty clear message to anyone who was listening what happens when you mess with the Avengers of their loved ones."

"Was hoping that would last longer," Steve said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "But we can't just let this go unaddressed."

"I'd like to talk to my dad before we start indiscriminately killing," Kate said. "Just to see where he is in all this."

"Take somebody with you when you go," he replied. "Visible or hidden is up to you, but you should have a second pair of eyes."

She glanced his way. "I'll bring Wyatt. He's scary looking."

That made him smile. "Don't know if bringing me home to Daddy is going to make for a fun visit, but it'll certainly be interesting."

"Well, I figure if I'm confronting about being involved in organized crime there is literally nothing he can criticize you for."

"Well, I could find something if you wanted me to. I'm surprisingly capable of making myself look like a creepy loser who lives in his van."

"I think it's the hair," Kamala piped up.

"It's very versatile," Tess agreed.

Kate grinned. "I figured you could just lurk in the corner and fiddle with your knife."

He grinned. "I've got your back."

"Go today," Steve said. "Get whatever information you need. Then come back so we can plan this out."

She nodded. "Got it, Cap."

"Tomorrow," Eli said, voicing the objection Wyatt wanted to but didn't think was his place. Steve looked over at him, part confused and part annoyed, it seemed. 

"Not everyone is a super soldier," Nat pointed out.

Kate didn't comment, because she would clearly have run out and confronted her father right then. But Wyatt saw a flicker of relief on her face when Steve nodded and said, "Tomorrow it is."

"Excellent," Wyatt said. The crowd in the Bartons' apartment had to be getting to her, and some had shot at them today. So he stood up. "Since that's settled, we really need to go get Lucky his dinner."

Kate beelined to his side, rubbing the dog's back. "Yes, he's earned it."

He opened the door to the hall and waved for her to go ahead of him. Feeding the dog didn't take two people, but he didn't care.

Once in her apartment, Kate took Lucky off his leash and led him to the kitchen. "I need a minute," she told Wyatt.

"You want me to go back to my place?" It was literally the last thing on earth he wanted to do right now, but if she needed her space, off he'd go.

"No." She said it a little too fast and too loud. "No. I just need some decompression time."

He searched her face a moment. "Okay. I'll go hang out on the couch. Take your time."

She nodded and went back to feeding Lucky. Wyatt did as he'd promised, sitting down and making a vague attempt to scroll through the TV options. He listened to her putter in the kitchen, then head back for the bedroom. Water ran, though not long enough for a proper shower. Then she returned in pajamas and sat next to him. After a beat of silence she reached out and curled her hand over his. He wanted to pull her into his lap, but all he did was squeeze her hand.

Some sort of sitcom rerun blared on the TV as they sat there. Slowly, she relaxed and edged a bit closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Kate," he said quietly, embarrassed by the catch in his voice.

She squeezed his hand. "I'm here."

He turned his head to kiss the top of hers. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. That was just . . . a lot in a couple hours. And tomorrow I have to talk to my dad."

"It's been a lot in 24 hours. You sure you don't want me to go back across the hall?" he asked. "I don't want to make you feel worse."

"You don't." She sounded a little surprised when she said it, like it hadn't occurred to her before. "You're steadying. Like Lucky."

"Good to know." He shifted so he could put his arm around her, and she cuddled closer. "You make me feel better when I've had a shitty day."

"Really?" She pressed into his side. "With my sparkling personality?"

"I think we just fit. Like puzzle pieces."

"I like that," she said softly. "Our rough edges lining up."

"They do." He hit the button to turn off the TV because the commercials were annoying him. "See? You're not broken. You're just. . . unusually shaped."

Smiling, she lifted her head and kissed him before resettling her head on his chest. Very quietly, she said, "I love you."

It surprised him that she said it out loud, but he wasn't surprised by the sentiment. Kate was a completely different—and admittedly particularly difficult—language, but once you learned it she wasn't hard to read. But he'd thought it would be a long time before they could talk about it. "I love you, too."

She nodded and gave him a little squeeze. "You wanna order some dinner?"

"Anything but Chinese food."

Laughing, she gave him a smacking kiss and stood, heading for the kitchen to get menus. "Agreed."

"So, am I going to get to meet your mom?" he called after her.

"Yeah, probably. Unless she's out at a luncheon or something."

He waited until she returned with the menus. "Should I make a good impression or are we going with the loser-in-a-van thing?"

She paused to consider it. "I mean, I don't really give a shit what they think. But Mom will probably be beside herself that I actually have a boyfriend, so maybe aim for at least moderately acceptable."

"Got it. Adequate, forgettable boyfriend. I can do that. I may need to go raid Peter's closet again, he's got more boring clothes."

"Thanks." She flopped next to him on the couch, spreading her menus out on the coffee table. "Should we discuss me meeting your mom?”

“She would love to meet you. You’re just going to have to come to Alaska to do it.”

"I've been all over the world, I think I can handle a visit to Alaska.”

He smiled, well aware of the irony. “She’s afraid to fly.”

Kate stared at him a moment, then laughed. “Seriously?"

“She would probably very reluctantly fly with me, but I’d have to go get her. Might as well just go. In her defense, the planes they fly out of our town aren’t exactly jumbo jets.”

"If you told Ada that she'd probably start working on a teleporter.”

“My mother would _never_ get in that.” He reached to touch her, just because he could. “But yeah. I’d like it if you met her.”

She leaned into his touch. "Didn't know if that was rushing it or something.”

“I’ve never brought a girl home before.”

"Well, yeah, it involves a flight to Alaska and braving the Tundra.”

“We’ll buy you lots of warm gear.” He pointed to the menus because he was starving. “I vote Indian.”

"I'm always up for butter chicken." He asked FRIDAY to call the order in for them while she stashed the menus away again. When Kate settled next to him again she said, "You're worth facing the tundra.”

That made him inordinately happy. “You’re worth facing assassins.”

Cuddling up against him, she hugged his arm and said, "Thank you.”

He debated his next words before he said them. “I didn’t want to go back to my place. I don’t think I would have slept.”

"Because you'd be worrying?”

He couldn’t read her tone. “Would it piss you off if I said yes?”

"If people worrying about me pissed me off Clint and I would not get along as well as we do.”

“It’s stupid. You beat up a dude one armed with a broom handle. I can’t protect you from anything you can’t protect yourself from.”

She smiled and rubbed his arm. "Sometimes it's just nice to know someone wants to.”

“At least give them a larger target to shoot at,” he offered.

"No, honey, you're not my cannon fodder.”

He looked over at her seriously. “I’d get between you and a bullet.”

"You're not bullet proof either," she pointed out, with what was probably dangerous calm.

Wyatt lifted his hand, because that was her Don’t Touch Me voice. “I’m a fighter pilot. We tend to think we are.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Well, no wonder you get me so well." She huffed out a breath and glanced at the ceiling. He gave her a minute to process whatever she was thinking. "Maybe it's back to valuing things. But I don't like the idea of people sacrificing for me.”

“I don’t _want_ to get shot. But I’m telling you it would be worth it. To me.”

She processed that another moment. "Well, try to get shot somewhere non-vital so Tess can fix you.”

He really did love her, this prickly, cagey woman. Trust and concession didn’t come easy for her, but she was trying. “I will try my best.”

"Good. Thank you." With that settled, more or less, she leaned over to rest on his shoulder again.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispered.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I think we will."


	10. Chapter 10

They slept in her bed together, though the evening had consisted of little more than handholding and a couple of very middle school kisses. Still, Kate slept better than she'd expected to. There was something to be said for having someone to cuddle against when the nightmares came.  
 She woke far too early the next morning to the sound of her phone ringing on the nightstand. With a groan, she reached over and answered with something approximating a greeting.

"Kate," her mother said on the other end, tone enough to get her sitting upright.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"It's your father. He didn't come home last night. Now he won't answer his phone and when I tried to track it on the computer it said it was off line. That's not like him, he didn't say anything about this."

Kate ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay. When was the last time you talked to him?"

"We texted yesterday at four. I wanted to buy theater tickets and needed his travel schedule. I'm sorry, I know I should call the police, but it's only been a few hours. I'm afraid they'll tell me he's off with a mistress or something."

Kate was pretty sure Manhattan cops would take a missing rich guy seriously, but considering what this was probably about, it was likely better they not get involved. "It's okay, Mom. I'll get the team on it and let you know if we think you should call them."

"Thank you, Katie.”

Wyatt had sat up beside her. “What happened?”

"Apparently, my Dad didn't come home last night." She swung her legs out of bed. "FRIDAY? Tell Clint we're coming over.”

“I’ll put coffee on, too,” FRIDAY replied.  
 "Thanks," she said, too distracted to request tea. She tugged on jeans and dug around for a bra. "This has to be connected to yesterday, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied.

"Right." She left him getting dressed and went out to give Lucky some food and pour herself some tea. When Wyatt came out he took Lucky up to use the patch of grass Ada somehow kept alive on the balcony upstairs, and she headed over to the Barton's apartment.

He opened the door with a mug of coffee in his hand. “So your father whose crime ties almost got you killed yesterday has gone missing. We’re considering this a bad thing because. . .?”

Life would probably be easier if she saw the world the way Clint did. "My mom sounded super worried.”

He waved at his couch. “Nat’s in the shower. She’s good at finding people.”

"Do you think they just killed him?" she asked, sinking into her spot on the couch. "No one sent Mom demands or anything.”

“Did you get any sense of what his role was within the organization?”

She shook her head. "He owns some businesses that are definitely fronts for some of their shipping and smuggling. I couldn't get a read on if he's a pawn or a part of the hierarchy.”

“Probably should figure that part out. We’ll have a better idea what we’re dealing with.”

"That was part of what I was going to talk to him about today." She rubbed her head. "I guess I could go look through his files at home.”

There was a knock on the door, and then Wyatt came in. “Hey. Ada says she’s calling Nate and they’ll get the security feed from your parents’ building.”

Kate hadn't even thought of that. "Thank you, that's a great idea.”

“We should send somebody over there,” Clint said. “And tell your mother not to go out.”

"Yeah, that won't freak her out." Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down, expecting a message from her mother. Instead, it was a text from an unknown number, with a picture attachment. When she opened it, it revealed her father, in a rumpled suit, sitting in a stiff backed chair, gagged and tied. "Ah. The demands have started.”

Wyatt came closer. “What do they want?”

"A meeting, it looks like. There's just an address." She turned the phone so he and Clint could see.

He frowned at it. “They want _you_?”

"Maybe it's a negotiation?" She shrugged. "Or an assassination. Though, again, I feel like they're forgetting I'm an Avenger."

"Or they know exactly what you're like," Nat said, strolling out of the back of the house. "And assume you haven't told the team and will be barging in alone guns blazing."

Kate opened her mouth to protest but stopped. Because until fairly recently, she'd have done just that.

“Don’t go,” Clint said. “This is a mess of his own making, leave him to it.”

She sighed, looking at the picture on her phone. She was probably a horrible person just for considering it. "He's my _dad_.”

“It could not be about his nefarious dealings,” Nat suggested. “It could be about Kate herself, or even the team as a whole. Via everyone’s favorite go-after-loved-ones tactic. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Wyatt folded his arms over his chest. “So they picked the family member, of all of our families, who is a) most likely to be able to handle himself in a fight and b) literally the only one for whom ‘no rescue’ would even be on the table.”

“Well, yeah, Occam’s Razor. Just looking at all the options.”

"Whatever the reason, whatever he's doing for them, he wasn't in trouble with them before I started poking around," Kate said. "He's tied to a chair because of me. I should at least get him out of that particular situation.”

Clint looked at the phone again. “Come alone. They always say that.”

Nat rubbed Kate's shoulder as she passed her. "Theoretically, I suppose there are people that listen. Who should we invite to the party?”

“Everyone?” Wyatt offered. “I’ll feel better if I can hover overhead in a quinjet armed with missiles.”

The exasperated “No” that came out of Kate and both Bartons was in perfect unison.

"Barnes and Steve will probably come," Clint said.

"Anyone on my team would be willing," Kate offered. "Though I admit Nate is a little flashy.”

“This needs stealth,” Nat said. “I assume you still want information and not just to kill everyone. So you want to look like you’ve charged off alone. If it were me, I’d put Cassie in the earring seat thing you have, Clint on a roof somewhere, and have Peter crawl in on the warehouse ceiling.”

“Nobody ever looks up,” Clint said.

"Anyone have any idea what kind of manpower they'll have?" Kate asked. "Handful of guards, we think?”

“We can surveil the building if you think we have time. Otherwise just bail if it’s intense, and go back later with a handful of angry supersoldiers and Wyatt’s missiles.”

“Thank you,” Wyatt said primly from behind her.

"All right." She, Peter and Cassie with Clint sniping could probably handle whatever she was walking into. "I'll text back for a time and update the others.”

Clint pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be in the armory.”

Kate watched him go, then looked over at Nat. "Is he pissed?"

She was watching, too. "Yeah, but I can't tell at what."

Well, great. She ran her fingers through her hair then gave herself a little shake. No time to worry about it now. "I better go wake up the others."

"I'll come with you," Wyatt said.

"Thanks." She took his hand as they walked out.

Nat went as far as the doorway. "Good luck."

Kate waved and headed for the elevator. It took several minutes and FRIDAY's help to get Peter up and moving. Once he opened the door and they explained the mission he was more than happy to help. They left him to eat something and get his suit before heading over to wake up Cassie.

On the way, the kidnappers answered her text with a time. "Today, 11:30." She sent the information to Peter, Clint and Nat.

"Broad daylight," Wyatt said. "That's. . .odd."

"Maybe they have a lunch meeting they want to get to."

"That what your gut tells you?"

"No." She paused and tried to sort it out in her head. "I think it's meant to put me at ease. Either it's a trap, or they're saying they really do want to talk and this doesn't have to be violent."

"I know I'm useless, but I wish I was going all the same."

"You're not useless." She kissed his cheek. "And I wish you could come, too."

"Maybe I could come drive your getaway car. I am the chauffeur."

"I think that's a great idea." Having him nearby was extremely appealing. 

He leaned in to kiss her. "Good. Thank you."

Cassie was more than happy to help and agreed to meet them downstairs in an hour. That done, Wyatt coaxed Kate into going back to her apartment to eat some breakfast before getting dressed and going to the armory herself.

Clint was in there, studying a table covered with what looked like every arrow he owned.

Wyatt had stayed upstairs to get dressed, which was probably good, because no way Clint was opening up with an audience. And also a little bad, because Kate was starting to get used to his steady presence at her back. Still, this was Clint, he'd talk or he wouldn't. She went to her station and rummaged for her thinnest body armor and a couple knives she could stash easily.

"Make sure you have plenty of backups," he said gruffly.

"I know. I'm putting on a couple obvious ones so they'll find something when they frisk me."

He nodded in approval. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She paused. "I think I'd feel pretty shitty if I didn't do it."

"You think he'd do the same?"

Bending, she slid a thin, ceramic stiletto into her boot. That had been something she'd been turning over in her head since she'd been shot at the day before. The last time she'd trusted her father unconditionally to catch her she'd been a toddler. The one time she had needed his support he'd encouraged her to hide and not fight. At the time she'd told herself he was looking out for her best interests, even if it had hurt. Now, she was starting to wonder. "Probably not."

"My father was an unabashed asshole. Drunk, violent. I wouldn't have pissed on him if he was on fire, and I _didn't_ call 911 the night he fell and cracked his head on the tub. I just went back to bed. He was dead in the morning."

He'd told her bits and pieces of his childhood, so the information didn't exactly surprise her. It did explain a few things. "Was your mother-"

"She worked the night shift. He had trouble holding down a job. I pretended I slept through it." He went back to organizing his arrows. "The world was a better place for his death. And it taught me that if somebody needed killing, I wouldn't feel an ounce of regret. Does that make me a sociopath or something? I have no idea. Could be a sign you shouldn't listen to me on this topic."

Kate reached out and bumped his hand with hers. "You told once to kill those who deserve it, protect those who don't and if I wasn't sure, to err on the side of sleeping at night. Maybe he's a shit head. Maybe this is all his own doing and I should let him swing. Maybe I still will, once I hear what they have to say. But I've been sleeping pretty good recently and my gut tells me if I don't at least try that won't be true anymore."

He nodded, understanding. "I just want to make sure you know you're worth more than he is. If it comes down to it."

In retrospect, it probably wasn't surprising that Wyatt was the one who got behind her walls. The two pilots had more in common than either of them would admit. "I know. If it comes down to him or me I know my answer."

"Good. And we'll be watching your back. I'll be watching your back." He paused. "Not that you can't handle yourself. It's just I worry."

"I know. I told Wyatt he could drive my getaway car. I don't think he wanted to sit here and worry from afar."

Clint began to load his quiver. "Does he make you happy?"

"Very much. He settles me."

"Solid hire on my part."

"Yes, you did good." She strapped a set of throwing knives onto her arm. "I told him I love him. He said it back. We're talking about taking a trip so I can meet his mom."

"It is really fucking cold in northern Alaska. _Really_ cold."

"He's made that very clear," she assured him.

"It's good to have a partner." He slung his gear over his shoulder and opened the armory door. "See you down there."

She nodded. "See ya."

*

Wyatt stepped out of his apartment, only to be nearly mowed down by Ada running by with an armload of equipment, Vision following her carrying a crate of some sort. He flattened back against the wall as they went past, and then he followed them all the way to the elevator.

Which was crowded. Eli, Tess, Kamala and Nate were all inside, dressed for battle. He barely fit inside with them. “Uh. Hi guys.”

"Oh good," Nate said. "You're coming too. I was afraid Tess would have to drive in New York traffic.”

“I didn’t know everyone was now part of the op,” he replied.

“They’re not,” Ada said, ever awkwardly honest. “They’re just going anyway.”

"You know," Kamala said. "Just in case.”

Wyatt looked at them a moment, not sure if he should tattle to Kate or not. Backup could never hurt. He sighed. “I’m driving a car. Take one of the vans and stay well back.”

Nate sighed and looked at Tess, "Looks like you're back on driving duty." 

She shook her head at him. "You can pilot a suit but not drive a van. It's embarrassing."

"I'm sorry, I was in jail for my driver's exam."

"I don't mind driving," Kamala said, for what sounded like the 11th time.

"You've had six speeding tickets in the last three years," Eli said. "People are afraid to drive with you."

Wyatt looked down at her, "Really, six?"

She frowned. "Everyone moves so slow."

He gave her a fist bump, which made Eli roll his eyes.

The elevator opened and the group of them moved, en masse, to go request a van. Wyatt went to go meet Kate at the front of the building where their car was already waiting. Cassie stood next to her, in her Wasp suit.

Cassie flipped up her face plate to look at him, her expression indicating she was aware of the Van of Insubordination being assembled downstairs. And also that she thought he shouldn’t tell Kate. “Where’s Clint?” he asked instead.

Kate smiled at him. “He’s been in place a couple of hours, doing recon. He says it’s boring.”

"Peter's meeting him and sneaking in while we head over," Cassie added. "Hopefully while any look outs are distracted with us arriving."

"You ready?" he asked Kate.

"I am. Got lots of knives. Hope they don't find them all."

He searched her face a moment, having no idea what he was looking for. What she could say that would make him feel better. Because she'd been right. This was part and parcel with being with her. Maybe he should go ask Sharon Rogers or Lani Wilson for advice. In the mean time, he just leaned in and kissed her. "Let's do it."

She kissed him back, despite Cassie whistling. Kate smiled at him when he lifted his head and gave him a little squeeze before separating and heading to the car.

The drive to Chinatown seems interminable and too fast at the same time. Periodically, he caught glimpses of one of their tinted black vans in his rearview. Someone needed to give them a lesson in stealth.

Kate had to have noticed it. But he wasn't going to rat them out.

When they got close, she dialed the car radio into the comms system. "How's it look, Clint?"

"Big boring box of a building."

She smiled and seemed to relax a little. Maybe knowing he was looking out for her. "Boring's not bad."

Wyatt pulled the car over and parked. He'd lost track of the van but assumed they were somewhere. "I'll be on the comms with the engine running," he told her. "Like always."

"My chauffeur," she said with real affection. She glanced back at Cassie, who tapped something on her arm and shrank down.

"Ready," came her voice on the comms. She always sounded a little echoey when she was little.

Kate took a deep breath, nodded to herself, then climbed out of the car. Slamming the door, she strode down the block to the address of the meet up and knocked.


	11. Chapter 11

The door was opened by a slim Chinese man a few years older that Kate. He had sunglasses on, but she could tell from the way he tilted his head that he was checking the street for back up. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the Scooby Gang down the block.

Apparently satisfied, he stepped aside and let her in. The building was big and boxy on the outside, crowded and stuffy inside. Rows of shelves flanked her, stacked high with boxes and things wrapped in shrink wrap.

The doorman gave her a pat down, removing her big hunting knife and the two in her boots. He made a little impressed face at the stiletto, then gestured towards the back of the building, falling into step behind her.

There was a clear area in the back that she suspected served as a make-shift office or meeting space when business was running. It was ringed by four more men in sunglasses. In the middle sat her dad, still tied to a chair. On his left was the guy that had tried to shoot her in the park. To his right was an older man in a crisp, bespoke suit.

"Got a visual on Kate," Peter whispered over the comms.

She didn't react, taking in the scene a moment, clocking all her enemies, then looking at her dad. "This is going to make Thanksgiving a little awkward," she told him in Mandarin, making one of the guards to her right snort.

The older man walked towards her. "I'm glad we have your attention," he said.

"You do. There were probably subtler ways to go about getting it."

"We tried, and were disappointed that your father has so little control over his daughter. Eventually this became. . ." He spread his hands and smiled. "Simpler."

"This guy is going to monologue," Cassie said over the comms. "I can feel it in my bones."

Kate had the same feeling. Monologuing was preferable to guns ablazing. But just barely. "Well. I'm here. Dad's tied to a chair. You've got the floor. What do you want?"

"I want you to do me a favor. I'm in the business of favors. I did one for your father a long time ago and he has spent the last few years paying me back. Now, it's your turn."

She wondered if this guy talked like this at home, too. "You need me to get something off a high shelf, or. . ."

"We need you to do what you do best. Kill someone."

Arching a brow, she gave the guards a pointed look and said, "You don't have enough people for that?"

He chuckled in a way he probably thought was menacing. "This particular prey has proven. . . difficult for my men to reach. But for someone with your skills, I'm sure it will be a simple matter."

The first thing she thought was to ask if he deserved it, which was probably a sign she was spending too much time with Clint. He probably did deserve it, whoever he was. But so did the guy in front of her.

She glanced briefly at her father, then back to the older man and said, "No."

He raised his brow. "You would prefer your father die than an enemy?"

"Ready when you are, boss," Peter said. "And your bow is awkward as hell."

Kate tilted her head so Cassie had a clear line of sight to the guy behind her. "Yeah, I don't know how much you know about Avengers, but we generally like to take a third option."

She held her hands out and her bow and quiver dropped neatly into them. At the same time, she felt the sensation of her ear being flicked as Cassie launched off. An instant later the guy behind her fell with a thump.

"Cassie, take right," Kate ordered, notching an arrow. She hadn't shot in months, but it felt just the same as it always had. The first arrow took out the guy who had tried to kill her and Wyatt, the second in the eye of the guard to her left. By then, Cassie and Peter had taken care of the rest and it was just her, her father and the boss.

She leveled an arrow at his eye. "My turn to talk."

He held up his hands, staying very still. Over the comms, she heard Clint say, in a very exasperated, paternal tone of voice, "She's got them all down, but go in if you must." A moment later she heard the doors behind her open again. That had to be the rest of them. Cassie popped up to full size, probably just to watch.

If you wanted to intimidate someone, having the entire Avengers at your back didn't hurt.

"I could put an arrow in your brain and not lose a wink of sleep," she told him. "But I know enough about organized crime in this city to know that would cause a power vacuum, the fall out of which I do not feel like cleaning up. So here's what's going to happen. My father lives. You don't go after him, or my mother or anyone else I care about or anyone _they_ care about. If my favorite barista gets food poisoning from bad potstickers, I'm blaming it on you. You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours. Or we revisit the arrow in the brain. Do we have an agreement?"

He glanced over her shoulder. "What about the rest of them?"

"I strongly suggest not kidnapping any of their parents."

Over the comms she heard, "He's welcome to try kidnapping my Dad. I'll sell tickets." Apparently Ada was even here. Kate hoped she'd stayed in the car. 

There were snorts of laughter. Then Eli said, "You come for one of us, you come for _all_ of us. I'm going paint that on a giant a billboard and nail it to the front of the tower."

Kate didn't take her eyes off her prey. "Clear enough?" He nodded slowly. "Good. You can go now."

He hesitated, and Peter shoved him between the shoulder blades. "Run before I throw you."

She kept her arrow trained on him as he walked, despite the fact her arm was starting to ache. When he was out of sight, she slowly lowered it and let out a breath.

"Thanks, guys," she said to the rest of them. 

Tess came over to her. "How's your arm?"

"A little sore," she admitted. Tess poked and examined it, but seemed satisfied she hadn't re-injured it. "Could you guys give me a minute alone with my dad?"

"Come on, let's go," Eli said, before anyone could think about arguing.

She watched them file out and went over to the guy who'd frisked her to get her knives back. Then she went over to her dad and pulled his gag out.

He coughed and spit, then looked up at her her. "Kate, that was -"

"I have a question I want to ask you," she said quietly. "How you answer will decide how the next few minutes go."

He didn't respond right away, studying her face. Whatever he saw there made him swallow hard and nod.

Already dreading his answer, she said, "All those years ago, when I was raped. You told me not to press charges. You told me I'd be put on trial and it would be like going through it all over again. You told me to forget it and try to move on. Was that really what it was about? Or were you afraid this -" She gestured to him and the warehouse in general. "Would come to light during a trial?"

Another pause before answering, though this one was probably answer enough. She turned and paced away from him. "I thought they would handle it," he called after her. "I went to my bosses, told them. . . told them I wanted a favor. But they said it was personal and none of their business."

"And that was it?" she asked. "You just shrugged and said that was fine?"

"What was I supposed to -"

She whirled on him. "Something! Hire a killer, go do it yourself. Ask _again_. Something other than let me crawl in a hole I almost didn't come out of."

"But you did get out. And you took care of it. Kate I was so proud of you."

Yanking one of her throwing knives out of her sleeve she threw it at him. It buried in the wood back of the chair, near his ear. He froze and she said, very softly, "That was the one time _in my life_ I needed you to be my dad. I needed you to put me above everything else. I needed my dad and you couldn't even be that." Tears tightened her throat and she swallowed them down.

Walking back to him, she used her hunting knife to cut his ties. "You weren't my dad then, so you're not my father anymore. We're done. Don't call me, don't expect me to help you. When your mob ties blow up in your face I'm not rescuing you." She sheathed her knife and walked away. "Go home. Your wife is worried about you."

She half expected the whole lot of them to be waiting outside, but they must have gone back to the cars. The only person out there was Clint, leaning against the lamp post. "You did good, kid."

She nodded. It didn't feel particularly good, but the mission was done and nobody had gotten hurt. They should probably go home now. Maybe she'd take a hot bath and Nat would make her something chocolate.

First, she decided to do something she'd never done before. She stepped forward and hugged Clint. He wrapped his arms around her tight, and whispered, "It's okay."

Sniffling, she mumbled, "You're a much better dad than him anyway."

"His loss. You're an excellent daughter. If someone had told me kids would come out like you I'd have had some."

She smiled and gave him a squeeze. "I'll take good care of you when you're old."

He rubbed her back. "How about we go home? I'm sure Wyatt's worried about you."

Nodding, she stepped back. "Okay. Home sounds good."

They walked back to the cars, the van now pulled up behind Wyatt's car. Cassie and Peter must have gotten in the van, because he was alone in there, with the engine running. He rolled down the window as Kate approached. "Need a lift?"

She grinned, ridiculously happy to see him. She kind of hoped this giddy, honeymoon period never ended. "You going my way?"

"Anywhere in the world you want."

Clint patted her shoulder and headed over to the van. Kate watched him. He really must approve of Wyatt if he was putting up with the rest of them for the ride home.

She slid into the car and leaned over to kiss Wyatt. He cupped her face in his hands, and there was more intensity in the kiss than expected. He really must have been worried.

"I'm okay," she whispered when he lifted his head. "I promise."

"I know," he said, pulling back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't. . ." He sighed. "I know you can handle yourself."

"I don't mind if you worry," she said softly. "Especially if you kiss me like that when I get home."

He put the car in gear, and then reached for her hand. "That I can absolutely promise."

The rest of the gang was waiting for them when they got back home. Kate was exhausted, but they were all energized after a mission well done. She was, in retrospect, extremely touched that they'd all come out. So she agreed to dinner at their favorite pizza place. She played arcade games with the boys and teased Tess and Eli for their PDAs, even while holding hands with Wyatt or tucked under his arm at the booth. Afterwards, back home, she curled up with him in bed and slept the sleep of the emotionally drained.

In the morning, she woke up tangled around Wyatt. For someone who avoided touch in her waking hours she sure didn't respect personal space in sleep. She shifted off him a little, but didn't go far when he started rubbing her back.

"Sleep good?" she asked.

He yawned. “I always sleep good with you.”

She smiled. "Me too." She pressed a kiss on his chest through the t-shirt he wore. "I have a crazy idea.”

“Those are the best kind.”

"I was talking to Tess last night, and she said they'll probably let me go back on active duty soon. So I was thinking. . . why don't we go see your family before that?”

She could feel him shift to look at her, and she lifted her head so she could see him. He looked to be considering it. “Weather’s decent this time of year. It’ll be mostly above freezing.”

Well, he'd warned her it was cold. "I will bring my nicest ski clothes.”

“How sturdy are your circadian rhythms? It’s midnight sun time of the year. Some people get weird.”

"I've never actually put them to the test. I get pretty cranky if I don't sleep, though.”

“Can you sleep in a face mask?”

“Yes."

“You’ll probably be fine. If you’re serious, I’ll call home and start taking orders.” 

She sat up, grinning. "I'm totally serious. It'll be fun and we totally deserve a vacation." She stopped and tilted her head. “Orders?"

“My town is only accessible by boat or plane. Shipping is, shall we say, catastrophically expensive. I always take stuff when I go. Now that I work here and fly my own plane home, I take a planeload of stuff.” He paused. “It think that parade I mentioned is mostly for the stuff.”

Kate laughed a little and leaned up to kiss him. "I'll help. I'm good at shopping.”

“You understand this is going to involve Walmart and not Barney’s, right?”

She drummed her fingers on his chest. "Can we go to Jersey and have it include Target?”

“I don’t know why we have to go to Jersey, but sure.”

"Tax is cheaper." He looked bemused and she patted his shoulder. "I told you I was good at this.”

“I love you,” he told her with a grin. “Have I said that yet today?”

"No." She brushed his hair out of his face. "But we've only been awake five minutes.”

“You up for sharing a shower?”

"That sounds like a fantastic way to start my day.”

*

For a crime boss, Chang Lee’s house was surprisingly easy to break into. Clint and Nat hadn’t done it in years, and he was on the other side of fifty now, so he’d been expecting it to be harder.

"Two guards on the perimeter," Nat hissed. "Is no one properly paranoid anymore?”

“Maybe it’s a trap.”

"I think you're giving this guy too much credit. They don't make crime bosses like they use to.”

“Apparently.” They found their way into what was clearly his office, and sat in the guest chairs, in we the dark. “Should we wait or go wake him up?”

"Let's give it a few, see if he shows up. Bedroom threatening always gets weird.”

“You see things you can’t unsee,” he agreed. “Maybe we should make a little noise.”

"Good idea, we're too old to sit in chairs all night." Scanning the room, she reached over and knocked some books off a table in a move that was oddly reminiscent of London wanting attention.

It took a few minutes, but sure enough, Lee stumbled in, having decided to come check himself rather than call his guards. That was probably all ego. He did have a gun, but Nat took it off him pretty quick.

"Have a seat," she said pleasantly, nudging him into a chair. "We wanted to chat."

Lee glared with as much dignity as an old man in pajamas and a robe could manage. "I thought my business with the Avengers was done.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers,” Clint said. “This is about Kate Bishop.”

Now he had his attention. Sinking into the chair Nat had indicated, Lee said, "What about her?”

“She’s a better person than me, and that’s why you’re still alive.” He leaned against the man’s desk. “Do you know who Hada Akeno is? Well, was.”

He tilted his head, clearly going over some sort of mental list of names. "I don't believe so.”

Clint tsked. “Twenty years ago he ran the Yakuza. Was murdered inside his own underground bunker. I’ve heard it’s become kind of a ghost story, of sorts, that big gangsters tell baby gangsters when they’re tucking them in at night.”

Lee nodded slowly. "I've heard the tale. Never gave it much credence, as every hired gun tries to take credit for it.”

“There was a flaw in his security system,” Nat said. “They’d had some trouble with weather-related electrical fluctuations, so they set the system to have a five second delay before switching the back-up generator. He didn’t want it to go back and forth and keep firing up the generator. Cheap bastard was trying to save money on gasoline.”

“And he didn’t like the noise,” Clint added.

“Right, so, five seconds was plenty to get control over the whole system,” Nat said.

“You know I once shot an arrow tipped with a thumb drive into a computer port? Almost brought down a helicarrier. Akeno was the very first time I tried that trick.”

“We turned it back on after we left. Just to add to the chaos.”

Clint turned to look at her. “You know, you’d have made a great melodramatic bandit in a different life.”

She propped a hand on her hip. "I would have, wouldn't I? The press could have given me some salacious nickname as I baffled the police at every turn."

"Is there a moral to this story?" Lee ask, clearly unamused.

“The Avengers are big and loud and obvious. Kate did a mental calculation about going to war with you and made a pragmatic choice. I am neither obvious or loud. I’m just a man who’s never not killed his prey. Trust me when I tell you, there’s nowhere on this Earth you are safe.”

Lee met his gaze and for a few moments they just sized each other up. "Is this a general threat or only if I make a move against Ms. Bishop?”

He chuckled. “It’s cute you think this is a threat.”

"What would you call it, then?”

“Vengeance. I think?” He looked over at Nat, who nodded. “You tried to kill her, so there’s a bullet coming for you. Someday Kate is going to be in a bad mood and give me permission to deliver it.” He gestured at Lee’s forehead. “There’s a target painted right there. And, like all snipers, I’m very patient.”

To his credit, Lee didn't beg or bribe. Nat wandered over to the desk and started poking around but Lee only had eyes for Clint. "I think I start to see why she didn't flinch when I had her father tied to a chair.”

“She wouldn’t have flinched if you’d shot him in the head.” Clint wasn’t sure that was true, but it sounded great and didn’t do Kate’s rep any harm. “Though she’d have killed you.” That was definitely true.

"I was very surprised she did not," he admitted. "Does she know you're here?”

“No. This is just between us.”

Nat reappeared at Lee's side, holding a black pen. "Not quite." Bending at an angle that should be impossible for a woman over forty, she drew a bullseye on Lee's forehead with a few quick lines. "There. Now everyone else can see it too." Tossing the pen back on the desk she sauntered over to Clint. "Now that's melodramatic.”

It took all his considerable willpower not to laugh. All he could do was make his most menacing face at Lee, and move towards the window they’d come through. Nat tossed him a jaunty wave before hopping out. He really needed to get her out more, she clearly missed it.

She was giggling by the time they got to the car. "That ink is never coming off.”

“I was having a serious moment!”

"Nothing is more unsettling than chaos, Clint. Clearly you brought me along to be the crazy one.”

“I did.” He leaned over to kiss her. “You were magnificent.”

"Thank you." She studied him a moment. "Are you sorry, looking back, that we didn't have kids?”

“No, I liked acquiring one as a teenager. Diapers are disgusting.”

She grinned. "Similar mood swings, though.”

“Really, the peripheral children were enough. And Kate’s been awesome.” He looked at her. “Are you sorry?”

"No," she said as quickly as he had. "I've enjoyed being Auntie Nat. And watching you coax Kate out of her shell. Like a strange version of deja vu where the thing you remember is happening to someone else.”

“I seem to be good at it.”

"You are. You've been an amazing partner and husband." She smiled fondly and reached over to squeeze his hand. "And a good dad."

He squeezed back. “Thank you.”

"Does this count as a mission?”

He laughed. “Hell, yes. And we still got it. Though my knees do hurt a little, if we’re being honest.”

"Next time we'll skip jumping out the window," she promised. Then she grinned. "Traditional post-mission sex?”

“You’re on.”


	12. Chapter 12

Wyatt was very grateful he had an employer that would lend him an airplane for a week. It made it much, much, much easier getting to his remote village. And it meant they could pack the plane with items for his family and their neighbors—who were actually also family. There were 600 people in town. Most of them were related.

He and Kate went to the grocery store, Target, Home Depot, and IKEA. They had everything from a case of ketchup to a king-sized bed stuffed back there. 

Vision came down and arranged it all for him because he had the best ability with spatial relations. A computer for a brain will do that for you. Ada came down looking for him just as he was loading on the first of the stack of gas generators—something that was both very heavy and in high demand up there. “What are those?”

“Generators,” Wyatt told her. “The electricity can be unreliable in bad weather.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” She sounded offended, though he had no idea why.

“Uh. . .no. It’s really isolated up there.” 

She sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, and stomped off. Wyatt frowned after. “What was that about?”

Kate looked vaguely amused. "You just told a girl who know how to build arc reactors that your small town runs on gas generators.”

Sure enough, she was back fifteen minutes later with a stack of boxes. She put them down, and then handed him the largest one. “This is for the town. Conservatively it will power 400 buildings. Lights, HVAC—not that you’ll need the AC—electric appliances. As long as nobody’s growing pot.” She pointed to the stack of smaller boxes. “Those are for individual backup, communal buildings, houses with babies, whatever. Hold a lotto. I don’t care.”

Wyatt stared at the box. “I. . .thank you. Are you sure?”

“You’re an Avenger. You can’t have your hometown using generators. I can’t believe you didn’t ask.”

“Well, _technically_ I’m just the chauffeur.”

“Wyatt, that’s the second stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He didn’t ask what the first was. 

She told Vision whatever she'd come to tell him, then headed for the door. "Next time give me some notice and I'll build you more," she called back.

Kate watched her with a smirk. "Ada's love is very dismissive. I like that about her.”

“Without the generators, you have a bit more space,” Vision said. “If there’s anything that got cut.”

Wyatt shrugged. “More booze is always welcome.”

"To the liquor store?" Kate asked.

Half an hour, and two cases of scotch later, they were in the air, headed north to follow the curve of the earth over Canada to Alaska. Kate was tucked into the co-pilot's seat with a book. Getting out of the Tower was a little hairy and he appreciated that she let him concentrate.

Now they were in clear air she lifted her head. "Are people going to hug me?”

“I warned my mother to tell people not to. She doesn’t really like being touched either, so she’s sympathetic.”

He could see her visibly relax. "I could have muscled through for your mom. I was picturing all 600 of them lining up.”

“Only forty or fifty will come meet the plane.”

That got him a baleful look that made him grin. "Are you excited?" she asked.

“I’m excited for you to meet them. Mildly concerned about the culture shock.”

"I'll have you know I binged two whole seasons of that Alaska the Last Frontier show in prep for this.”

“Let me guess—white people heroically tame the savage wilderness that was absolutely not already occupied by people who will probably have to save their sorry asses when they either freeze, or starve, or both.” 

She tilted her head. "Well, they were white. But they've been living out there for generations and do seem to have the living off the land thing, down. I now know how to smoke salmon and could probably fake dressing a deer.”

He was absolutely not going to get into an argument with his girlfriend about this. They were stuck on this airplane together for a lot of hours. But he was really poor at keeping his mouth shut sometimes. “My people have been living in the general vicinity of our village for centuries. Millenia if you believe the archeologists. It’s a little spit of land sticking out in to the sea that’s good for nothing but fishing, whaling and hunting seals. If it was of any use to anybody but us, we’d have been bulldozed in a heartbeat.”

After a pause, she said, in a small voice, "I was not going to _offer_ to dress a deer.”

He felt bad, and reached out for her hand. “I appreciate your effort of trying to prepare. There won’t be any deer, we’re above the tree line.”

She wove her fingers into his. "I'm sorry. I know it was probably silly. I'm just. . . really nervous I'm going to say something insensitive. It is going to be a culture shock. I'm a snob. I'm a _New York_ snob. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or make you look bad.”

The plane was mostly flying itself at this point, so he could look at her. “The homesteader types bother me because they’re in love with their own ruggedness. Alaska is a hostile challenge for them to tame. And get a boy scout badge, or something. They’re hanging on by their fingernails and praising themselves for not dying. But we don’t just stay alive in one of the harshest places on earth. We thrive. It’s, you know. . . home. Home is sea ice and barren land. We like it.”

She nodded, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand. "Tess actually said something like that." Looking over at him, she explained, "We got to talking while she was helping me decide what clothes to bring. About me being nervous. She told me to remember that no matter how weird things seemed to me, for you and your family it was just home. And that I should act the way I wished people visiting New York would act when they saw Time's Square." She gave him a crooked smile. "Maybe my innate desire to not be a tourist will keep me in line.”

“Tess and I speak the same language.” He smiled. “It’s going to look like poverty. And I guess mathematically it is. In the summer the ground is mostly gravel, mud, and some very hearty dune grass. Houses are prefab, mostly metal, up on platforms because of the permafrost. This time of year they sprout all sorts of weird attachments and lean-tos. It’s going to look like run down trailer park to you.” He paused. “Though there is one geodeisic dome and also a house one guy built out of the front half of a cargo plane.”

"That last one sounds kind of awesome," she admitted.

“It is, he did a really good job with it. Holds up great in storms.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze and he had the feeling he'd eased a little of her fears, at least. "We're going to ease me into the seal meat, though, right?”

“This time a year it’s mostly whale meat.”

"Mmm, much better.”

“I’m going to put down in Fairbanks to get my family McDonald’s, if you want to get something while we’re there.”

"I would be up for that.”

“We’ll keep you fed, I promise.”

She smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "I know you will.”

The stop in Fairbanks took longer than expected because of their grocery store detour, but Kate felt better about her food options, and he bought an insulated bag in hopes of keeping the fast food hot for the rest of the flight. “There’s no fast food of any sort up there,” he told her. “It’s become a thing with my cousins.” 

"You could totally talk Nate or Tess into bringing a suit and make food runs sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He flipped switches and hit buttons getting the plane prepped for flight. “And they’re going to love you. I’m sure of it.”

With a still-nervous smile, she said, "I hope so.”

They went up above the clouds again, and out over the ocean to approach from the south. Point Hope technically had a “tower”, since it was considered an official airport and not a landing strip due to two commercial passenger flights it got each week—one from Utqiaġvik to the north and Kotzebue from the south. The air traffic controller was a guy named Stu, and the radio was in the back of Stu’s auto mechanic shop. Wyatt was sure the commercial flights and cargo flights all used proper radio calls, but all he did was flip to the frequency and say, “Stu, it’s Wyatt. I’ve got a Big Mac with your name on it.”

He was laughing when he picked up. "Better find you a parking space then, huh?”

“Just let me know when you get that 747 off the runway and I’ll come down.”

"Sure, sure." There was a pause, probably while he checked what was on the field. "Looks like everyone's out of your way. Come on in as close as you want."

“Sweet. Sound the fog horn.”

“Your mother has been ‘checking in’ every fifteen minutes all day.”

That didn’t surprise him. “Tell her I’m on my way down.”

"I'm sure you'll hear her reacting from the plane."

Kate grinned at him and buckled up as he started his descent. The runway was wide open and once he got out of the clouds it was just about perfect weather for landing. The airport—or the runway, anyway—was a mile or two from town, mostly for noise reasons. But apparently a good hunk of his family had walked or driven over, because he could see the crowd as he touched down.  
"You know," Kate said thoughtfully as she studied the crowd. "Clint is probably scarier than everyone out there, but at least there's only one of him.”

“You’ll be fine.” He leaned over to kiss her. Then he opened the back gate and they climbed around the cargo so they could get out.

The crowd gave a cheer when they appeared at the back. Kate's hand wrapped around his, only a little too tight.

His mother broke out from the rest of the pack, rushing up to meet them at the base of the jet's ramp. "I expected you an hour ago," she said when she reached them.

“The stop in Fairbanks took longer than expected.” When he hugged her, he lifted her off the ground. “Hi, Mom.”

"Hello, Wyatt. It's good to see you.”

He set her down, and reached back to take the bag of McDonalds from Kate. He held it up and said, “Burgers are still warm.” As one of his uncles came forward to take it, he turned back to his mother. “And this is Kate.”

Mom turned to Kate, who was wringing her hands a little now that they were empty. "Welcome," Mom said. "I'm very glad you could come."

"Thank you," Kate said. "It's nice to meet you. Wyatt speaks of home with great love.”

“I’m sorry I brought the stuffed clown car behind me to swamp you. There are no secrets in a town this small.” She patted Wyatt’s arm. “Go make the rounds. People want to say hello and get their goodies. I will guard her from the horde.”

He glanced at Kate and she nodded. "I'm all right. Go shake hands."

*

She watched Wyatt head back in the jet with a couple of guys to help him haul the stuff out. Meeting the parents hadn't been something Clint could give her advice on. But she was an Avenger and Wyatt's mom seemed nice. She could handle this.

Turning back to her, she smiled. "Thanks for the protection from the crowd.”

“They’re a bunch of hooligans. Even the ones who are 80. The midnight sun makes everyone crazy.”

"Wyatt quizzed me on my circadian rhythms before we came.”

“When he came home for Christmas, Wyatt set up lights in my house that mimic sunlight. I close all the curtains tight after dinner, and slowly the house gets dimmer. I sleep much better now. And they do the reverse in the winter.”

"The basements at the Tower have lights like that," Kate told her. "It does help keep the people who work and train down there on a normal schedule.”

Wyatt had brought out the boxes of arc reactors, and the crowd gathered around him as he explained them. She could see his mother smile. “He’s a good boy.”

"He is," Kate agreed. They watched him a moment and to her surprise, she added, "I was attacked when I was a teenager. It made it very hard for me to trust people. But Wyatt's been. . . very patient and very kind. Despite me being occasionally very difficult to be with." She looked over at the older woman. "You raised a very good man.”

She smiled and nodded. “Did he tell you how he left the Navy?”

"He did, yeah. Part of what helped me trust him.”

“He was picked on a lot as a kid. As a mother it was awful to watch, but I believe it made him kind. He’s always wanting to protect those weaker than him.”

Kate smiled. "That's why he's an Avenger.”

“The boys will be at this a while. The walk back to town is beautiful this time of year, would you care to head out?”

"I would. We were in plane a long time. Even with the stop in Fairbanks I could use a chance to stretch my legs.”

Wyatt looked up in surprise as they walked away, but Kate waved him off. It would be nice to get to know his mom without an audience. They walked along the ocean, in a nice brisk breeze. The ground was covered with green and yellow grass, and there were wildflowers sprinkled all over it. The ocean stretched in ever direction. It was very. . . peaceful.

She picked some of the flowers as they walked. "It's very quiet here," she commented. "I'm used to the city noise.”

“It is. Even more so in the winter. Everything is white and still.”

"I'd like to visit in the winter sometime. We figured summer was a better idea for my first time.”

She smiled. “I am certain you will be back. I know he loves you very much.”

Kate felt heat in her cheeks, but she couldn't help grinning. "Because he brought me here? Or does he talk about me?”

“He talks about you every time I talk to him.” She shook her head. “From the day he got that job.”

Oh, the blush was getting worse, she could feel it. "I didn't realize. . . it took me a long time to be ready for anything.”

She shrugged. “He’s happy. You’re happy. Everyone does things their own way.”

That was a very Wyatt thing to say. "I can see where he gets his zen," she commented.

“I think it’s what makes him such a good flyer.”

He did have that in common with Clint. "Our previous pilot interviewed probably dozens of guys for his replacement. Wyatt was the only one who didn't crash the test simulator.”

“I have heard a great deal about Mr. Barton. I thought Wyatt had lost his mind when he told me he was just going to go volunteer for the Avengers. But somehow it worked.” She smiled. “He has always been fearless.”

"That probably helps with dating me." They were starting to pass homes and other buildings, up in platforms like Wyatt had described. It sure wasn't like anything in New York, but it wasn't quite as odd as she'd been picturing. It all had a sort of cohesive look and made sense given what she knew about the weather.

“He speaks of you with great love, too, you know.”

She didn't doubt that at all. She might doubt that she deserved it, but Kate didn't doubt Wyatt loved her. That probably wasn't something to share with his mother. "I've never had a boyfriend before. I think he might had spoiled me.”

“There’s nothing spoiled about having your standards raised.” She stopped in front of a squat blue metal building with a sign on it that said The Whaler’s Inn. “Take it from someone who has made her share of mistakes in that department.”

Kate wondered if she was ever gonna hear that story. Probably none of her business. She looked up at the building. "This the hotel?”

“It is. They got your room ready. Manny, the owner, went out to the airport. He had a bed and a toilet on your plane. But nobody locks anything around here, I can take you in.”

"I helped pick out the bed. The toilet was all Wyatt." She followed her inside. "You know, this place explains how quickly Wyatt adapted to living in the Tower. We're an insular little tribe ourselves.”

“We have to look out for each other. The whalers go out in the spring and risk their lives to bring us food and bone and baleen. They come back and everyone gets some. We live in the tundra, we die if we don’t work together.” She lead Kate through a room that looked like a living room, with a TV and a kitchenette. Wyatt had told her it was more like a B&B than a hotel. “The nearest doctor is 200 miles away. The nearest serious hospital is in Anchorage. Wyatt didn’t fly in a blizzard the first time because he’s a daredevil. He did it because someone flipped their snow machine and was dying.”

"He downplays that in his telling of it," Kate said. If she remembered correctly he'd just bitched about careless tourists. "And his role on our team, now that I think of it. We always assumed he just didn't want the attention.

She opened a door to one of the bedrooms, and amused smile on her face. “I’d think he’d at least complain about the time with the baby. I heard whining about that for months.”

Her brows hiked up. “Baby?"

“Someone delivered a baby in the back of Wyatt’s plane, years ago. He was traumatized.”

Kate laughed out loud. "He never told me that one.”

“Well, maybe he’s blocked the memory.”

"I'll be sure to stir it up when it will be most traumatic." Though it was possible talking about babies was a wasps nest she was not yet ready to stir, even in the abstract.

Then she heard his voice from the outer room. “Mom? Kate? You guys here?”

"In here," his mother called. They heard his steps approaching and she added, "Get all the presents distributed?”

“They’re being hauled all over town as we speak.” He appeared in the doorway, carrying his bags. “Hello, ladies.”

"Hey, baby," she said. He set the bags down and she tilted her face up for a kiss. "It was a nice walk from the airport.”

“Manny said we can have the bridal suite if we put the bed together.”

"I am happy to trade manual labor for sleeping comfort.”

“Well,” his mother said. “I will leave you guys to settle in.”

"Thank you for the talk," Kate said.

“We’ll see you for dinner?” she asked.

She glanced at Wyatt, who gave her a look that indicated that was up to her. So she turned back to his mother and nodded. “Definitely."

“Lovely,” she said, gave them a smile, and left.

Kate let out a long slow breath and stepped closer to Wyatt, tucking into his chest. He hugged her and rubbed her back. “How are you doing?”

"I'm okay," she told him honestly. "Your mom's really nice. She reminds me of you.”

“Well. She did raise me. And my father was a shit, so all my good genes are from her.”

She nuzzled his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "You never talk about him.”

“That fact that he is a shit is the only thing I know about him. He doesn’t acknowledge I exist and I have no interest in ever meeting him.” That was said with a surprising amount of vehemence, particularly for him.

Kate leaned back to look at him. A few strands of hair had fallen out of the elastic and she lifted a hand to brush them off his face. “Hey."

“You know how old my mother is?” he asked. “She’s 45. I’m 30. Which, coincidentally, is about the age he was.” 

It hadn't occurred to her how young his mother looked. Her mom looked about ten years younger than her real age and Wyatt had a kind of ambiguousness to his age. She'd figured Natives wore age as lightly as Asians. Now that she was thinking about it, the other woman had looked more Kate's age than her mother's. "Do your mom and I have something in common?" she asked carefully.

“I don’t entirely know. I’m not sure she’d tell me, considering. I know there wasn’t any appreciable violence involved or he’d have been taken for a swim.” She could see how that would be an easy way to kill someone up here. “But I can’t say how informed any consent was at that age differential.” He sighed. “Though you will find company among lots of women in town. Native women are more than twice as likely to be assaulted than any other demographic.”

That was. . . really depressing. "Once it happened I started noticing signs of it more. How often it pops up as backstory in media. I suppose when I hear about a girl getting treated shitty it's the first place I go to.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. But she doesn’t talk about it. As I said, most of the women I know.”

Kate kind of wished she'd been less euphemistic when talking about it earlier. Though that still didn't mean his mother would have told her anything. She certainly didn't make a habit of telling strangers about it.

She rubbed her hands up and down his arms. "Well, we both agreed that you turned out to be a very good man. I think I'm lucky to have you.”

He kissed her. “I’m lucky to have you, too.”

She wasn't so sure about that, but wasn't about to argue. "So, bed building?”

“Yes. I really want to sprawl out in that king. You kick in your sleep.”

"Before or after I attach myself to you like a lamprey?”

“You alternate. It’s refreshing.” He grinned at her.

"That's almost a metaphor for my waking life." She stretched up to kiss him lightly before stepping away. "Come on. Bridal suite, here we come.”


	13. Chapter 13

The bed was pretty easy to build and set up. Once they got it arranged, they went to the town restaurant—there was only one, conveniently attached to the hotel—for dinner. His mom met them there, and a few neighbors swung by the table to thank them for various things they'd brought and size up Kate.

She'd made a point of changing and touching up her make-up before they'd come over, despite his protests his mom wouldn't care. Now he understood they'd been armor. She smiled and shook hands with everyone who came by, answering all their questions about New York and the team. It was hard to tell if people were more interested in her as an Avenger or as his girlfriend.

“I’m the most famous person in town,” he said by way of explanation.

"It's all right," she said, digging into her meal. "If I'd gone without a functional toilet for months, I'd make a fuss over the person who brought me the new one.”

“Toilets are really expensive to ship,” Mom said. “And outhouses can be dug for free.”

"And biodegradable," Kate said with a grin.

Wyatt shuddered. “It’s still gross. Even when the piss and shit freeze.”

"Wyatt, we're eating," Mom scolded.

"You brought up outhouses."

"I didn't get into detail." She looked at Kate. "I swear I raised him better than that."

She was still grinned. "We've all learned to live with his terrible table manners back home.”

“I blame the military,” Mom said.

“So do I,” Wyatt replied. “All the time.”

"You and Eli both. Though, to the Army's credit, you can eat off his floor.”

Mom patted his arm. “Yeah, I’m not that neat.”

Kate and his mom got on like a house afire, trading stories about him. Mom avoided the more embarrassing ones, to his relief, and Kate didn't have a huge selection.

"So Tess decided she needs to prove her roots or something. And the next thing we know she and Wyatt are rigging up a still in the common room while Ada stands three feet away yelling instructions. Because neither of them will let an underage girl touch a still but dammit, she has _opinions_.”

“She’s a good engineer,” Wyatt said defensively. “And that was great moonshine.”

"It was very good moonshine," Kate agreed, reaching over to rub his shoulder. "Tasted like apple pie.”

“Should have brought some up with the booze stash.”

"Next time. You guys can make a special batch.”

“Well,” Mom said. “It’s getting late. Time to get home and get under the sunset lamps.” She turned to look at him. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“We’ll be over bright and early.” It was always bright this time of year, of course. Even at 2AM.

"I'm hoping for baby pictures to go along with the stories," Kate said. His mom winked, which had to be a bad sign.

“Okay,” he said. “Back to the hotel.”

They said their goodbyes and headed over to their room. Kate had her hands tucked into her pockets as they walked. "The midnight sun thing would definitely get to me.”

“People adapt. But we are probably evolutionarily adapted, so it’s easier. And winter is worse.”

"The darkness? But so many shadows to hide in.”

“You’d have to learn to eat things like seal organs. Or you’d get weird nutrient deficiencies.”

That made her pause. "If the superhero thing doesn't work out we should start a trendy restaurant in the Village.”

He laughed. “I think running a restaurant is harder than saving the world.”

"Yeah, probably." He held the door of their room open for her and watched her relax as she stepped inside. "Was a long day," she commented, sitting to unlace her boots.

“And most of it crammed in a jet cockpit.” He took his boots off. “Our bodies think it’s like 11PM, if that makes you feel any better about being tired.”

"It does, actually." She tugged her sweater off, leaving her in a thin tank top and started rummaging in her bag. "That's a reasonable bedtime.”

Wyatt changed into pajamas—with a shared bathroom, you kind of had to. “Hopefully we’ll get a good night’s sleep and be ready for tomorrow.”

She nodded, wiping her make-up off with a cloth. He ducked down the hall to pee and brush his teeth and by the time he got back she'd changed as well. Kate tended towards full pajama sets or t-shirt style nightgowns that went down to her knees. So the lace-edged little nighty she had on currently was a bit of a departure.

He grinned and raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s new.”

Looking oddly shy, she lifted a shoulder. "Thought it might be a nice surprise.”

He came towards her. “You can reward me with skimpy lingerie any day of the week.”

When he reached her, she lifted a hand and tugged the elastic out of his hair, twining her fingers into the dark strands. "I'll keep that in mind.”

He slid his hands over the slippery fabric. “So I take it this is a sign you’re not tired?”

"That was the message I was trying to get across, yeah.”

His fingers dipped underneath the bottom hem of the nightgown. “What sort of mood are you in tonight?”

She took a deep breath. "Brave."

Wyatt stilled, and then leaned back to look at her. He wanted to make sure he read that right. "Are you—?"

"Yeah." She rubbed her hands over his shoulders and arms. "When Tess and I were talking, she was telling me about the girls she grew up with and how they'd put sex on this pedestal, meanwhile doing everything else you can possibly do with a guy. And that she always figured that naked was naked and orgasms were orgasms. As long as everyone was happy it didn't really matter how it got done. And it got me thinking. . . I've done stuff with you I never did with another guy. I'm comfortable with you. You make me feel safe." She made a very Kate face at that. "Which is annoying but also nice. I like being with you in bed, I like feeling connected to you. And not having sex is letting that night in the park dictate my relationship with you and I'm not okay with that." She took another deep breath. "So. I want to try. I might still chicken out, but let's call it the gold medal. And if we end up with a silver or bronze that's okay."

He smiled at her. "Just promise me you won't accidentally kill me, or kick me in the nuts, during any freak out, and we're good. . .other than the fact that I have no condoms." He thought of that last one as he was saying it.

"I'm on birth control," she told him. "All the girls on the team are. Except Kamala, which you probably didn't need to know."

"I really didn't, but I may be getting laid tonight, so I forgive you."

"Good. Also, I've been warned about the nut kicking and I don't think I could accidentally kill you while naked, so we should be good."

"I have more confidence in your murder skills than you do," he said, bending his head to kiss her.

She sighed softly, relaxing into him. Her hands wandered back into his hair, fingers tangling. He suspected she'd never admit it, but she seemed to really like his hair. Kate was remarkably good at paying silent compliments. It was one of the many things he loved about her. 

He backed up to the bed and sat down on the edge. She always seemed to feel more comfortable when she above him. He bracketed her hips with his hands and leaned forward to kiss her stomach through the silk. He could feel her muscles tense and relax under his touch. He pressed another kiss, right above her navel, listening to her breathing. He'd gotten good at her cues in bed, enough to know when to push and when to back off and give her space. Right now she sounded like she was processing, so he stayed where he was.

Her hand tugged lightly on his hair, enough so he would look up, then she bent and kissed him. It was deep and explicit, sending heat through him. It was how she told him she was very much into what they were doing, even if she was still nervous. She tugged his shirt up, and broke the kiss only to get it over his head. He looked up at her again. "You know how much I love you?"

She stroked her hands along his now bare shoulders. "How much?"

It had been rhetorical, of course, but that was very Kate. "More than I could possibly describe."

The corner of her mouth lifted and she cupped his face in her hands. She studied him a moment and her expression turned oddly sad. "I wish I could go back in time and tell that depressed seventeen year old who didn't want to leave her apartment that someday she'd have a guy who adored her just the way she was." She swallowed hard. "I think her road would have been a lot easier if she'd known that."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I love the woman that hard road made."

She smiled and gave a little nod, then kissed him again. She buried her hands in his hair again, then pressed closer, straddling his legs before sitting in his lap. Her nightgown rode up to the tops of her thighs.

His hands roamed over her skin, over her legs and around the curve of her ass. It took him a minute to realize she wasn't wearing any underwear. He must have reacted because she laughed against his mouth. "Surprise."

"You're full of them tonight," he told her. He tugged up the nightgown a little further. "I can't decide if I want this off or not."

"You've seemed a fan of my boobs in the past," she pointed out.

"That is true." He pushed it up, and she obligingly lifted her arms. When he'd revealed her breasts, she grabbed ahold of it and pulled it over her head, letting the fabric flutter down to the floor. The graceful way she moved, the way her back arched. . . something about the motion was unbearably hot.

"Good?" she murmured, rocking against him as she curled her arms around his neck again.

"Yeah," he breathed, leaning back and pulling her with him.

She squeaked a little at the sudden movement, then giggled when they landed. Now she was pressed tight against his chest, a gentle weight on top of him. She lowered her head and for a few moments he was content to stroke her skin and kiss her.

He used to ask whenever his hands went wandering, but she'd gotten comfortable with him touching her and as long as he was gentle was happy with it anywhere. It was a study in patience, being with this women. But he liked it, and could just trail his fingers over her for hours. How it ended up scorching, he had no idea—but it always did. He reached to cup her breast and she sighed, arching into the touch.

Her nipple tightened so he circled the pad of his thumb around it, watching it pebble and peak. He brought his other hand up to give the other breast the same attention and Kate shifted, propping herself up on her hands so he had full access.

"Thank you," he said politely and it made her laugh. He liked to make her laugh. When Kate took certain things—particularly sex—too seriously, she'd get lost in her head, sometimes go somewhere dark. Laughter was the opposite of fear.

She kissed him, then rocked up so her breast were closer to his mouth. He brushed his lips across one in a light kiss and she shivered. He sucked the nipple into his mouth and she moaned. He let go of her other breast and slid the hand down her body, down between her legs. She made another noise when he touched her.

His fingers glided against her easily, she was already slick with arousal. He kept his touch light, exploratory and he felt her shudder again. He gave her nipple a slightly rough tug, just to distract her and her arms wobbled. He let go, and tilted his head back to look up at her. "Do you want to come first?" Their sex life involved a lot of questions. Asking and receiving permission. 

She took a couple of slow, deep breaths, gathering her thoughts. Then she nodded. "I think it would help. I'm not sure if I will the other way."

"There's nothing on this earth an orgasm won't help with," he informed her. "Let me flip you over."

Nipping his lower lip, she grinned. "Flip away."

He rolled her onto her back, and resumed his carefully study of her breasts. Eventually he moved slowly downward, pausing below her navel until she lifted her hips in invitation. He knew her, what she liked, what she wanted, sometimes even when she couldn't quite figure it out herself.

Pressing light kisses on her thighs, he carefully nudged them farther apart, opening her wide to him. She cleared her throat, sounding a little shy when she said, "No one's ever done that."

He ran his thumb over her clit, and she sucked in a breath. "In my defense, I have asked twice."

Another little throat clear. "It just seems very. . . vulnerable."

"I know," he said quietly. "But you're safe now."

Her fingers tangled in his hair. "I know."

He rubbed her leg reassuringly, not entirely sure she'd relax enough, but wanting to make it worth her while. Plus he had really been dying to taste her. The muscles in her thigh remained tense and he got the sense she was thinking, then she propped herself up a little on one elbow so she could watch him. "Okay. Go on."

He brought his mouth down to her, and he could almost feel when she forgot to keep thinking. She made quiet, desperate noises, and fisted her hands in his hair. He glanced up at her to find her back arched, head thrown back. Closing his lips around her clit, he sucked her and watched the muscles in her stomach ripple and tense.

She lifted up, pressing into his mouth, and said in a desperate whisper, "There, right there." 

When he repeated the motion, she yanked in his hair so hard it hurt—so he did it again. He’d end up bald, but it would be worth it. It took three or four more sucks, each one earning him a reaction. The last time she let out a whimper and arched, body quivering. Her sex pulsed against his mouth and he lifted his head, stroking her with his fingers to watch her ride it out. She was beautiful, lost in her pleasure, arching in relaxing as she rode through the waves before collapsing back onto the covers.

He crawled back up onto the bed, careful not to loom over her. He just stretched out next to her and brushed the damp hair off her forehead. "Hey," he whispered.

She blew out a shaky breath and opened her eyes before giving him a lazy grin. "I shoulda said yes earlier."

"Honey, I will happily do that every day."

"Mmm." The sound was almost a purr. She rolled to face him, kissing him tenderly. "You make me feel good," she murmured. "I want to know what you feel like inside."

All he was capable of right then was a relieved, "Thank God." Because at the moment he was so hard it was almost painful, and the damn bathroom was down the hall.

Her hands went to the waistband of his pajama bottoms and shoved them down for him. "Can we do it like this? No one on top?"

"We can do it in any position you want. Even more than one." He kicked the pajama pants off, and pulled her closer. Gently he tugged one of her legs up over his hip. "Come here."

She used the leg around him to pull herself closer, so they were flush against each other. He had to shift her a little, until he could feel the damp heat of her graze his cock. That earned him a little sound, part surprise, part arousal. She hooked her leg higher, wrapping around him. Sometimes she surprised him at how flexible she was.

He took one of her hands, and brought it down between them, so she could guide him into her. Gut instinct told him it would be easier for her if she helped. Sure enough, he felt what tension she'd been holding ease when she touched him. Bending her head, she looked between them, lining him up with her entrance.

She set the head of him at her entrance, shifting her hips so he entered her. Then she released him to curl her hand over his hip, tugging gently so he'd sink deeper. He was probably supposed to be doing . . . something right now. Something reassuring. But it felt so good he couldn't think straight. He couldn't even really see straight. And she just rocked her hips, taking him further. "Fuck," he gasped.

He heard her laugh a little at that. She kept moving, tugging him again. Taking her cue, he managed to gather enough sense to move. She took him deeper with each stroke, until he was finally sunk to the hilt, surrounded by her wet heat flexing around him.

Kate found his mouth with hers, giving him a wet, messy kiss. "Wyatt," she murmured on his lips. He moved against her and she shuddered, fingers flexing on his hip. " _Wyatt_."

"You okay?" he asked her. If she stopped it might actually kill him, but she didn't need to know that.

"Be better if you keep moving," she said, giving his lower lip a little tug. She sounded very. . . Kate when she said it. He would absolutely follow orders right now, He pulled nearly all the way out, and pushed back in, feeling her body stretch and slide around him. He did it again and felt her nails dig into his skin.

Focusing on her reactions helped stave off his own. She gasped and whispered his name as he stroked in and out. Canting his hips gave him a different angle, which made her jerk and throw her head back, so he kept it up. His pace grew harder and faster, much as he tried not to. But that made her tighten around him.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Don't stop, don't stop. I think, I think I'm-" She cut off with a low wail and he felt her clench hard around him an instant before she started to shake. Her muscles rippled and flexed around him and her fingers dug into his skin hard enough to bruise.

There was no way he could survive that. He buried his face in her neck and clutched her tight against him, surging as deep into her as he could get. Every part of their bodies touched. It was the last thing he paid attention to before the blinding pleasure took over.

When he could breathe and think again, she had wrapped both arms around him and was breathing hard, face pressed into his hair. He was still buried deep and could feel her fluttering gently around him. "Don't move yet," she said softly, voice tight with emotion. "Just stay a minute."

He nodded, and nuzzled his cheek against hers, about all he could do. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you, too." She kissed his cheek. "Feel I should say thank you, but you clearly enjoyed that as much as I did."

"Well. You _did_ get the Buy One Get One Free special."

"Oh, that's true." She ducked her head to kiss his. "Thank you, Wyatt."

He sighed in contentment. This was as content as he'd ever been in his entire life. He wondered if she had any idea she did that to him. After a lifetime of being restless, he was happy to just be. "You are very welcome, Kate."


	14. Chapter 14

Eventually, they disentangled enough to get under the covers and sleep, though neither of them put pajamas back on. Apparently, that much skin contact combined with jet lag, was enough to wake them up horny at 5am. This time they had enough patience to try different positions and tease a little bit. Kate had been right, sex with an adult was a lot more fun than teenage fumbling.

When they woke up for real a couple hours later, though, she was touched out and hypersensitive, even after a shower, so clearly sex was still going to be a one day at a time thing. Wyatt cheerfully gave her space and she decided to focus on the positive. Someday she'd like to be a couple that could have a spontaneous nooner on the kitchen table, but it wasn't going to happen overnight.

They went over to his mom's house around lunch time and Wyatt helped her with some repairs while she gave Kate a tour of his baby pictures. He'd been a remarkably scrawny looking kid with a mop of black hair and crooked baby teeth. When he wasn't looking, his mom slipped her a couple of her favorite prints to take home.

Walking back to the hotel after dinner she said, "I'm not hinting and I promise the birth control is firmly in place. But if we ever had kids they would be the most ethnically ambiguous people on the planet."

“Rei Wilson is pretty confusing.” He looked at her. “I think most people will see asian.”

She tilted her head. "Yeah, probably. But I'm guessing it'll be more Japanese or East Islander than Chinese.”

“Yeah. White people will see ‘Generic Asian’. Asian people will see ‘WTF are you?’”

"Exactly." She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at the sky. The light during what should be nighttime hours was a little off and eerie. "Do you want kids?”

“I didn’t used to think so. . . but I can see the appeal. My life has stabilized and suddenly that sort of thing seems possible.”

She nodded. "I've always been on the fence. My job is dangerous and with my issues I thought I probably wouldn't be a great mom. But the Grownups managed to raise non-fucked up kids and other people with dangerous jobs do it all the time. I just. . . don't know how I'm going to explain to a four year old that mommy really can't be touched right now. Though maybe with my kids it'll be different.”

“It might be. Or you just tell them, and find someone else to pick them up. It’s not like we live in some far flung isolating suburb. Take it from someone who grew up in an actual village, there’s always somebody.” Like punctuation he waved to some random people who were waving at him from across the street.

That was true. Even if he wasn't around one of the other girls would probably be happy to scoop them up, or one of the Grownups. Hell, for her kid Clint might even step up. "I suppose that does help. And chances are someone will have a kid for me to practice with.”

He was quiet a moment. “We are having the kind of relationship where we have that conversation, aren’t we?”

"I'm not an expert but, yeah. Seems so." She shrugged, trying to sort out her thoughts. "This has been hard for me. Being with you. Lots of mental pep talks and pushing myself. You're great and I think you've made it as easy as possible. But it was hard." She bumped his arm with hers in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "I did it 'cause I wanted to be with you. Because you were the first guy I wanted to put the effort in for. I don't need a proposal. I don't think I'm even ready to move in together. But I had kind of been thinking they were in the game plan. Somewhere.”

Wyatt hooked his pinky around hers, something he did when he wanted to hold her hand but knew she was pretty touched out. “Sounds like a good plan.”

The rest of the week was more of the same. They spent time with his mom and her family. Met some of his neighbors. Wyatt helped them set up the reactors Ada had sent. She tasted whale meat - which was more like game meat than any fish she'd ever eaten, had they told her it was venison or moose she would have been unable to prove otherwise. There wasn't much to hunt, but one of the older neighbors lent her a wood and string bow to play around with. It was a lot more work than hers, but by the end of the week she could hit a bullseye. Which got her a standing invitation to come hunt any time.

When it was time to go she was a little sad. Much as she was looking forward to heading home, it had been a very peaceful week and a turning point for them, in more ways than one. She suspected his mother was already planning the wedding and naming the grandkids, but she played it cool. After a little mutual hedging and dancing, she and Kate managed a hug while saying goodbye. "We'll come visit again," she promised.

“It makes me happy to see his heart is in good hands,” she told Kate.

His mom had a very poetic way of saying things sometimes. "I'll take good care of it. And him.”

“I know you will.”

Wyatt said his goodbyes, lifting his mom off her feet with his hug. Based on his blush, Kate suspected she had some poetic words for him, too. Or grandkid demands, could go either way. Then they were on the jet heading back to New York.

“I had a really nice week,” he told her when they were in the air. “Thank you.”

"It was fun," she told him. "We have to come back in the fall. I really want to hunt with that bow.”

“You know fall up here is like February in New York?”

"I'm not Cassie, I know how to bundle.”

“We could do a few days up here, and a few days downstate in a snowy little cabin the woods.”

She grinned at him. "That sounds very romantic.”

They chatted their way through the flight home—she and Wyatt talked more than she ever did with anyone else. The leg home was shorter because they had no stops and no load, but it was still late and dark when the jet landed in the tower.

They grabbed their bags and headed down to the apartment rooms. Kate was mentally debating the merits of going right to sleep or trying to rally for a quickie when they reached their doors. "Tired?" she asked him, figuring that was important intel.

“A little, but not too much.” He looked at his watch. “You want to go knock on the Bartons’ door and get the dog?”

Probably sad that the dog took precedence over sex, but she had missed the big guy. "Yeah, he'll be happy to see us.”

He watched her a minute. “You want to go fool around first?”

" _Yes_." She put a hand over her mouth, cheeks hot. Wyatt grinned, and peeling the hand away so he could kiss her. She sank her hands into his hair. "You've created a monster," she informed him.

He backed her up against her door. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

"No, no. It was intended as a compliment.” They made out against the door for a moment, then from somewhere down the hall, she heard Clint yell, “Get a room.”

Kate thumped her head against the door. "Oh, my god, Dad, you're so _embarrassing_.”

“I thought you’d want your dog.” He had Lucky on a leash at his side, and he barked when he saw he had Kate’s attention.

Wyatt stepped aside so she could crouch down. Clint unhooked the leash and Lucky came running over. She caught him, his whole body wiggling with excitement. "Hello baby. Mama missed you so much. You're such a good boy. Were you good for Clint and Nat?”

“He chewed an $800 pair of shoes,” Clint commented.

She held Lucky's face in her hands and looked in his eyes. "We've talked about this." He woofed and licked her jaw. She ruffled his fur a little more, then stood to give Clint a hug. "Thanks for watching him.”

“Any time. You have a good trip?”

"We did. Wyatt's mom likes me. I ate whale meat and got to shoot a stick and string. I've been invited back to go hunting.”

“That does sound successful. Well, I’ll let you get back to your hallway necking. Have a good night.”

"I'll see you in the morning," she promised. 

He waved and headed down the hall. Wyatt touched the small of her back, and opened her door for her. “We should probably neck inside.”

"Yeah, god knows who'll show up next." Lucky trotted inside and went to the kitchen looking hopeful. "I feel like they probably gave you dinner, buddy." He whined and wagged his tail hesitantly. With a sigh, she dug out a pig's ear and tossed it to him, earning a happy dance.

“Come to bed?” Wyatt asked quietly.

The words sent heat down her spine. She turned and reached for his hand. "Yes, please.”

“Good,” he said. He pulled her closer, bending his head and putting his mouth next to her ear to murmur, “Where are you tonight?” She had no idea how he managed to make all the status checks and gentle questions somehow sound hot, but he did.

She kissed his cheek, nuzzling him gently. "Not sure," she admitted. They'd reverted back to their more standard routine the last few nights in Alaska. Their days had involved a lot of small talk and interacting with new people and she hadn't wanted to push herself. Now they were home, in her apartment, but tomorrow was probably going to be full of recapping their trip to the group.

Someday, she'd be able to go to bed with this man without overthinking everything.

She wound her arms around him, tucking one hand under his shirt. "Maybe we can start slow?”

He lifted his arms for her to pull his shirt off. “Sounds like fun.”

*

About a week after their return to New York, Wyatt was in the common room watching Ada kick Nate's ass at some sort of fighting video game when FRIDAY came over the intercom. "All current team members please report to meeting room Alpha for emergency mission debriefing.”

Ada tipped her head back. “Me too?”

"Yes, Ms. Ada.”

“I had you on the ropes,” Nate said. “Wyatt will back me up.”

“No, I won’t,” he said as he stood.

"Maybe you should compete against someone at your skill level," she said as they all headed to the elevator. "Roger, perhaps. Or Maggie!”

“Very funny,” Nate grumbled. She gave him a sweet grin and batted her lashes.

Eli and Tess were already in the conference room when they got there, and Cassie slipped in right behind them. "Anyone know what the deal is?"

Tess shook her head while Eli shrugged. "Just got told to come down.”

Wyatt pulled up a chair. “Anybody seen Kate?”

"FRIDAY said she wasn't in the building."

"She's back on active?" Cassie asked.

"We cleared her before Alaska," Tess said. "She's still doing PT but she's not in danger of re-injuring herself."

The door flung open and Kamala appeared in the chair next to Wyatt. "Not last."

Kate came in the room a half minute later, in running gear, with a panting Lucky next to her. "You suck, Khan.”

“You wouldn’t like me if I was slow.”

She plopped into the seat to Wyatt's left, chugging water. Peter came in, followed a few minutes later by Sharon Rogers. She looked a little surprised to see them all. "Wow, you were fast.”

“Maybe you’re just slow,” Ada said.

"Still young enough to ground, Ada," Sharon told her without missing a step. She tapped something on the wall and the lights dimmed, screen lighting up to show what looked like the aftermath of a bomb. "Ten Rings just set off a detonation device in Eastern Sokovia. A video has been released claiming three other devices are set to go off if their demands aren't met. We've been tapped to try and make sure that doesn't happen.”

“What do we have as far as intel?” Eli asked.

"I've got reports from the local bomb unit." Monitors around the table lit up with forms. "Agencies are working on likely targets. But a lot of this is going to be an easter egg hunt."

Kate was skimming through the reports. "Who do I have to talk to to bring Ada?" 

Whatever muttering and shuffling had been going on stopped, and the room was completely silent. People were looking from Sharon to Kate and back. Kate was looking at her reports. Sharon cleared her throat. “Well. . .I’d start with Steve and Vision, who are Ada’s guardians, and I expect then we’ll have to call Wakanda to talk to her parents. The original agreement was no missions before she finished school.”

"Yeah, I remember." Kate looked up. "But she's eighteen and I need another tech person. Peter can probably handle a bomb, and Vision. But they're saying there's three, which probably means there's more. So I need someone else and Ada's it.”

“I don’t count as a tech person now?” Nate protested.

Kate looked over at him. "You're software. I don't think you hack a bomb."

"FRIDAY could walk me through it."

"You really want your trial run to be a live bomb?"

"Point taken.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to sign off on _Ada_ handling a bomb,” Sharon said.

"I have a suit," she pointed out. Wyatt couldn't quite read her tone. He got the sense she'd kept it purposely neutral.

“It’s still a bomb.”

"I've built bombs, I'm confident I can un-build them." She glanced down and lifted her phone. "Dad's calling me back." She stood. "I'll let you know what he says.”

They were all quiet as she ducked out. Then Wyatt said, “I’d love to be a fly on the wall for _that_ phone call.”

Sharon was still watching Kate. Before she could say anything Kate said, "There's no expected combat. She's eighteen, which is older than half of the team was when they started. And she wants to help."

"The fact you guys started young is not a selling point," Sharon pointed out.

"We still did it. You sent us on missions when Kamala was only a year or two older. I know you remember her as an eight year old but she's an adult. And she wants to be an Avenger. At this point you're only holding off the inevitable." She glanced back at the reports. "One day, the shit is going to hit the fan and we'll have our version of Ultron or the Chitauri. It's going to be all hands on deck and she's going to show up in her little purple suit and I'd prefer that not be the first time she's put it on."

The door opened again and Ada came back in. “Okay. If I get killed you have to send Vision to tell my parents in person, Dad thinks Hulk might smash the messenger.” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands neatly on the table, giving Kate an expectant look.

She grinned. "Good to know. We'll keep you with someone experienced to handle any hostiles you come across. Probably Nate or Eli." She looked at Wyatt. "When can we get wheels up?”

He lifted a should. “Ninety minutes?”

"Make it faster if you can," she said in full on Leader Voice. "Kamala, stay here and help me map out the best route to check the city. Everybody else go prep.”

He should not find that voice as hot as he did. Or maybe he should. She might like it. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I need at least an hour to prep my suit,” Ada said. “I didn’t know this was happening.”

"That's fine," Kate said, softening a little. "We'll aim for wheels up in eighty.”

“Thanks,” Ada said brightly, hopping up. “I was expecting 75.”

"I'm a giver," Kate called after her. The rest of them started to disperse. Kate leaned forward to look at the screen. "FRIDAY bring up a map of the area and mark the spots with suspected bombs.”

The map appeared on the screen as Wyatt came around the table to touch her shoulder. “I’m going to go prep the jet.”

She reached up and covered his hand with hers, thumb sliding affectionately along his wrist. "Thanks. I'll see you down there.”

He turned his hand to squeeze hers, and then headed downstairs.

A little over an hour later they all met up in the hanger, Ada in her purple and green suit. Kate went over the plan, splitting them into groups. Kamala, Vision, Nate and Tess would be on scouting duty, finding the bomb sites. Once they had them all located, Ada, Vision and Peter would move in to dismantle them, along with teammates to watch their back. Local authorities would help as able and if it did turn out to be more than three bombs their disposal team would get assignments.

Kate spent most of the flight sitting with Ada and talking to her. The girl was clearly putting on a stoic face, but anybody would be nervous on their first mission. When they were nearing the landing site Kate came up to the cockpit and leaned on his chair. "You okay?”

“Hell of a mission to jump back in on, eh?”

"I can think of worse, but not much." She curved a hand over his shoulder and rested her cheek against his hair. For a few moments she stood like that, clearly getting some sort of peace from the contact. 

He reached up to cover her hand with his. “I love you. I’ll worry. But I’ll get used to it.”

She nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Good enough.”

“Be careful. Come back to me.”

"Always," she told him. Giving his shoulder a little squeeze, she leaned back and went back to tell the others they were about to land.

When they landed, Wyatt flipped the radio over to their comms, and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be possibly the longest wait he’d ever had.

To his relief, it proved to be as mundane as an Avengers mission could be. Their initial search found five bombs instead of three, naturally, so the local bomb squad was sent to one, Vision was assigned two and Peter and Ada each took one. Kamala went with the locals in case they needed support, Eli and Kate went with Ada and Cassie and Nate tagged along with Peter. Tess stayed at base to help with injured and coordinate.

The chatter was the normal blend of banality and humor. Peter's group ran into some hostiles, but they were quickly dealt with. When Vision finished his assignments he scanned the city to make sure they hadn't missed any devices.

“Ms. Bishop, we look all clear,” he reported back.

"Great. Everyone good?" There was Leader Voice again.

"All set," Peter reported. "The bomb guys just took ours away."

"Tess, can you let them know we're done and meet up at the jet?"

"On it, boss.”

A couple of minutes later, people began showing up at the jet. Ada was a superstitious person, and so waited until she was actually onboard to say, “That was awesome! And I didn’t die.”

Wyatt got out of his seat and went into the back, mostly to wait for Kate. Ada was taking off her suit—which was green and purple and elegantly designed. “You really are an adult now, aren’t you?”

"I can vote, smoke, join the military, and gamble, though not drink. So yes, mostly.”

“Smoking and gambling are bad for you. The military is 50/50.”

“I can gamble safely,” she said, inspecting her suit. “I have an eidetic memory and can do high order math in my head.”

“Sounds like you could definitely learn how to fly a plane.” 

She looked up at him. "I should put that on my list."

"List?"

"I have a list of skills I want to acquire. I hadn't considered pilot previously, but you're right, it would be useful."

Kate climbed up the jet ramp, trailed by Tess and Eli. "Hey, everyone else on?”

Wyatt turned and took a headcount. “Indeed.” He wanted to hug her, but he probably shouldn’t.

"Great. Let's go home." She stepped over to him and kissed his cheek, then rumpled Ada's hair. "Good job. Call your dad so he knows you're not dead.”

Ada saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Wyatt hooked his pinky around hers. “Come fly with me?”

Kate smiled. "I'd love to be your co-pilot."


	15. Chapter 15

They got in pretty late. Kate swung by the Rogers' apartment to update them and assure them Ada had done fine and hadn't gotten so much a paper cut. Wyatt had been tired after two long flights, so she sent him to bed. By the time she got to her apartment and showered he was fast asleep. She'd kind of been hoping to unwind after the mission with him, but didn't have the heart to wake him. So she tucked herself in next to him and fell asleep.  
She woke the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon being fried. Stretching out, she took a moment to appreciate the joy of a day with nothing to do. Which gave her an excellent idea. Digging around in her nightstand, she found the little toy she'd splurged on and went to the bathroom to get dressed.

Wyatt was trying to get Lucky to beg for a piece of bacon when she came out in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Oh, just give him the bacon," she said, sliding her arms around him from behind.

He tossed the bacon to the dog, and turned to wrap his arms around her. “Good morning.”

"Hi." He dipped his head and kissed her and she sank into it. It was funny, all the things they'd done together and his kisses could still curl her toes. "I thought we could have a nice, lazy day.”

“Mmm, how lazy?”

"Well," she drawled out. "We could do a few things." Leaning back, she took one of his hand and place a little black remote into it.

“Oh. Well.” He leaned in to kiss her again. “You know how men feel about remotes.”

Hands now empty, she sank her fingers into his hair. "And that one controls something way more fun than the TV.”

He hit the button, and she felt the vibe come on. It was the lowest setting, but the little harness it had come with held it right against her clit, so even that little tickle sent heat through her. She sucked in a sharp breath, hand tightening in his hair.

"Yeah," he murmured, turning it up a little. "This is fun."

She swayed into him. "I thought you'd like it. Playing with me a bit." She kissed his jaw. "I'm never going to be okay with getting tied up. But power play stuff interests me."

"You should wear this during the day." He bent his head to kiss her neck. "It would certainly liven up briefings."

Her cheeks flushed at the idea. "I could be convinced."

He turned it a little higher. "Random elevator rides. Target practice. What's the range on this thing?"

It was getting a little hard to focus on the conversation. "Um. The package says fifty feet, I think."

She felt his teeth on her earlobe. "Do you need to sit, honey?"

Sitting, sitting was a great idea. She managed to get out, "Uh-huh," but it sounded like a whimper.

She could almost feel him hesitate, then he said, "Too bad."

Kate shuddered, feeling oddly proud of him. This was probably scary territory for him. Running a hand down his chest, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Please?"

He rested his forehead on hers, and turned it up again. He whispered, "No."

Fisting a hand in his shirt, she tried locking her knees and a knot started to twist low in her belly. Her hips rocked as if riding an invisible lover. The pressure and speed was almost perfect. Just a little more and she'd be gone.

Instead, he turned it off.

She gasped, lurching a little as if searching for the stimulation. Her body was all but humming, but the knot that had been tightening dissipated, leaving an ache. Blinking, she looked at Wyatt to find him watching her carefully, like he was still uncertain she was on board for this.

Wanting to reassure him, and make sure the game lasted, she mustered a smile and kissed him. "Breakfast?"

He grinned widely. "Have a seat."

She did so and he served her bacon, followed by toast and perfectly fried eggs, plus a cup of her current favorite tea. Twice during the meal he hit a button, making her gasp, but he didn't bring her as close to the edge as he had before.

"We could take the dog for a walk," he said casually. "Or just sit around and watch some TV."

The thought of him teasing her that way out on the street caused a rush of heat to pool in her and nerves flutter in her stomach. "Maybe a short walk, but I do have laundry to fold." She met his gaze. "What would you like best?"

"There is something strangely appealing about tormenting you while you do boring household chores." He turned the vibe back on. "I've heard things about girls and the spin cycle."

"I wouldn't know," she said, managing to sound almost prim, despite the heat pulsing through her. He grinned and she forced herself to saunter off and gather up the dirty clothes in her room and start a load. She heard Wyatt give Lucky a treat and settle him in the spare room to give them some privacy.

When she came out with a basket full of clean clothes to fold he was settled on the couch, queuing up the next episode of the crime series they'd been watching on Netflix. It was about the unsexiest thing she could think of. But when she sat on the couch next to him, it pressed the vibe snug against her clit and she couldn't stop the little moan that came out of her.

He leaned back and propped his boots up on the coffee table. It was a very him pose, and reminded her of the day they met. He grinned at her and cranked the vibe up.

She could easily have leaned back right then and gotten lost in it. But the point of the game was to get teased. So she leaned forward and pulled out a pair of jeans to fold. After a few pieces of clothing he turned it up again and she shuddered, nipples tightening against the thin fabric of her shirt.

The next time he turned it up, she dropped the shirt she was folding and arched her back, gripping the arm of the couch. She half expected him to turn it off again, but he didn't. He did say, "Keep folding."

Shuddering, she managed to peel her hand off the couch and pick the shirt back up. The knot was forming again and her body felt hot and languid. Breathing hard, trying not to grind into the couch, she folded the shirt and set it on the coffee table, then picked up the next one. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, hovering right near the edge. It probably wasn't much more than a minute or two, but it fell like an eternity. And then finally he said, his voice a little hoarse, "You want to come here, Katie?"

Nodding frantically, she shoved the basket away and lurched towards him, movements clumsy. She found his mouth in a rough, desperate kiss. He dropped the remote as both arms came around her, turning it down in the process, but it was still running. He plunged one hand into her hair, and clutched her shirt with the other, yanking at it like he wanted it off but couldn't remember how.

She leaned back and pulled it off for him, dislodging the hand in her hair. Her nipples were swollen and sensitive. The first brush of his thumb had her all but coming out of her skin. His other hand was fumbling with her jeans. The vibe was still going and it was almost more than she could take.

She cupped a hand over the front of his jeans and found him hard, pressing against the denim. The touch stopped his fumbling, gave her a moment to breathe, she she tugged his zipper down and freed his erection. She was a little impressed he was that hard, just from watching her squirm. Clearly the game worked both ways. All she had to do was get her pants off and they could be fucking.

But there was something she'd really wanted to finally try and she owed him a little torment. So after giving him one firm stroke, she bent and licked the head of his cock before closing her mouth around him.

Blow jobs had long been on the list of things she'd never done. After having sex she'd been determined to keep nothing off the table and, with no other ideas, had gone to Tess for advice. And discovered someone with a medical degree and a healthy sex life was actually a pretty good advisor. Her tips had mostly boiled down to use your tongue, don't worry about anything but the first couple inches, and teeth were an advanced technique.

_Oh, and look up at him, if you can. They really like that for some reason. I think it's a porn thing._

Flipping her hair to the side, she took him a little deeper and looked up to watch his face. He stared back at her, looking rather dazed and dumbstruck. She sensed he had some sort of _never ask_ list in his head and this was clearly on it. He reached down to brush her hair out of her eyes, and there was something incredibly tender about the touch.

She gave him an exaggerated wink and shifted to give herself a better angle and ease the pressure from the vibe on her clit. Focusing him for a little bit helped, too, though she didn't have nearly the patience she would have normally. Well, probably better to have the first time be more of an appetizer.

When he actually lifted his hips a little, she figured he was officially as wound up as she was, and let him go with one last, long lick.

"Okay," she breathed, sitting back on her heel and unbuttoning her jeans. "Now you can fuck me."

"God," was all he managed. She stood to peel her jeans off, taking her underwear with it. She left the vibe on, because why not. Then he reached for her, puling her into his lap. She kissed him, with as much affection as need, then went up on her knees. It took only a nudge to get him lined up with her entrance. The feel of him sliding against her slick folds made her moan. She was probably as wet as she'd ever been, so she was able to slip him inside and lower herself onto his length in one thrust.

The feel of him filling her was almost enough to send her over the edge. Her body clenched eagerly around the intrusion, and the pressure made the still buzzing vibe even more intense. "Jesus," he growled. "I can feel that."

Kate grinned. "Good." She started to move, rolling her hips so the vibe ground into him on the down strokes. "Fuck," she whispered, head tipping back. She could feel her orgasm building impossibly tighter and increased her pace, chasing it.

He thrust up to her in short, hard strokes. "Honey. . .I-I can't—"

Her knee hit something hard and she looked down to see the remote sitting on the cushion. Scooping it up, she found the intensity button and cranked it up, thrusting down hard as she did.

The climax poured through her, arching her back and tensing every muscle. She was pretty sure she screamed when it hit. Then she was aware of nothing but the endless waves of pleasure and feel of him buried inside her.

He must have come, but she was too lost to pay attention. She just knew when she collapsed against him, he was still except for his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He managed to get out a reverent, "Holy shit."

She mumbled something she hoped sounded like agreement, then turned the vibe off. Her body shuddered at the sudden loss of stimulation. But he was still firmly inside her, which was nice. He stroked her back and she closed her eyes, relaxing against him. "I love you."

"I love you," he replied, then added, "I adore you. I want to build a bronze statue of you in Central Park, and possibly set up a shrine of some sort at its base."

She laughed, then groaned when it made her flex around him. "So this was a good game that we will repeat in the future."

"Yes. I saw stars. I think I saw God. That or I accidentally bought the wrong kind of mushrooms for the omelets."

It made her laugh again, and she lifted her head to kiss him tenderly. "And the blow job was okay?" she asked, studying his face. She was pretty confident in his answer, but everyone liked a little positive reinforcement now and then.

"Yes," he said emphatically. Then he added. "If I'm honest, particularly because I'd assumed I'd had my last."

She ran her fingers through his hair, suspicions confirmed. She was going to make her own statue in the park, for the best boyfriend in the world. "I didn't want to bring it up till I was sure I could do it. I think I needed to get used to you first. But it was not as weird as I'd expected." Grinning, she admitted, "It was actually a little fun."

"I assure you, that's not a situation you will ever find me objecting to."

"Good to know." Winding a lock of his hair around her fingers, she asked, "What will we do with the rest of our day?"

"Doesn't matter. This can't be topped. The day has peaked."

"Careful, baby. I'll take that as a challenge."

"Explain to me how that's a bad thing? Unless we die of sex. That would probably make the others sad. Jealous, but sad."

Challenge accepted. Kissing him again, she slowly started to ease off of him. "I am going to take the vibe off. And then I'm going to get you a snack. And _then_ I'm going to show you a trick Tess told be about with ice and hot tea."

"It'll be a good death!" he called after her as she walked toward the bathroom.

By the afternoon they’d worn themselves out. They even managed to share a shower that was barely R-rated, and ended up curled in a damp pile on the bed. Her hand went wandering and he said, “Uh uh. No more sex today.”

Kate made a grumbling sound. “None?"

“You’re going to end up sore, and you have bad dreams when your lady parts are uncomfortable.”

She pouted, but kissed his shoulder. "I like that you know that.”

“I know you,” he replied. “In many, many ways.”

"You do." She lay curled against him, listening to his heartbeat. This was the kind of day she'd once thought lost to her. Naked and experimenting with her boyfriend. She probably would be a little sore and her sleep would be troubled. Maybe tomorrow she wouldn't be able to stand being touched. But it had been worth it. It gave her hope for all those next steps they'd talked about. Living together, marriage.

"Darcy found me the contact information for that girl from NYU," she said softly.

“Are you going to call her?”

"I don't know. I keep going back and forth. I want to make sure I'm doing it for her, not me, you know?" She sighed and trailed her fingers along his ribs. "I keep trying to remember what I felt like back then, if getting a call from someone like me would have made a difference. I don't know if it would have, but then, not everyone reacts the same. And then I think, what if she doesn't give a shit? Not everyone likes or cares about the Avengers. Then I'm just intruding on something really private. But if she _does_ care then that might be a source of strength, to not be alone in it. And around I go.”

“Why don’t you send her an email or a letter?. Then she can reply if she wants or ignore you if she doesn’t.”

She hummed, considering it. "That's a good idea. Give her some agency. And the official letterhead and return address might assure her I'm legit.”

“If you want my opinion, it’s not about that you’re famous, it’s about that you’re a fighter. There’s this toxic perception that it’s a victim’s fault for not fighting hard enough. My friend from the Navy is like six feet tall and combat trained. It can happen to anybody.”

"I talked to Clint about it. He said if I went hunting I needed to use a gun because the arrow was too distinct." Clint was nothing if not practical. And perfectly willing to help her track down the guy and kill him. "It got me thinking. In the four months it took me to find the men who hurt me, about five hundred people were raped in New York City. Four people a day. And when they died, no one knew why. They mourned them as friends and brothers and sons. One of them had a memorial set up in front of his house. Because he was really good baseball player." It had taken all she had not to set that pile of flowers on fire. "I can't hunt down everyone. So I just. . . I feel like I need to find some other way to fight.”

“You could hunt them and out them.” He shifted so he could look at her better. “It’s crazy what Nate is capable of. Remember those assholes that were sending Kamala racial slurs and inexplicable dick picks? He somehow got their names legally changed to Pakistani slang words for penis.”

She chuckled. "I remember that." Reaching up, she started to idly play with his hair. If he ever cut it she'd probably cry. "I don't know. I feel like even with outing them, there's going to be people who defend them, you know? The story becomes slandering this poor boy instead of the awful thing he did. Any excuse to change the narrative, right?" She wound hair around her fingers, picking out tangles for him. "I want to be able to turn on the news and not hear about how short her skirt was or how much she'd had to drink and how girls shouldn't take pictures of themselves if they don't want creepy guys to steal them and post them online.”

“Well, that’s certainly a worthy fight to take on.”

"Yeah." She chewed her lip, turning that over. Most of them didn't do much with their fame. The Grownups had various causes they'd stand up for, but her team kept mostly out of the limelight. Kamala was "the Muslim superhero" and seemed to own that, and Nate did some outreach to kids in juvie. Maybe it was time she started a different kind of fight. "I think in the morning I'm going to have a meeting with PR.”

“You want me to come with?”

Her first instinct was to insist she was fine to go alone, she could handle a meeting. But this was a sore subject for her and would almost certainly require telling strangers about what happened to her. And the point of having a partner was not having to do hard things on her own. So she said, "Yeah, that might be good.”

He tugged her closer. “It would be an honor.”

*

The meeting with PR had been. . . interesting. PR wasn't sure what they thought about an Avenger getting involved in "such a hot button issue." Which had, of course, only made Kate more determined to do something. When she'd made it plain she would do it with their guidance or without it, they conceded and started putting together some sort of public address.

She spent the better part of a week writing what she wanted to say. Nat came over a few times and helped her. She'd been the Avengers unofficial public face pretty often in the old days and knew how to handle herself in front of cameras.

Tuesday afternoon they crowded into one of the more photogenic meeting rooms with what seemed like a dozen cameras and twice as many people. Kate sat at the table surrounded by people doing her make-up and giving her pointers while Wyatt stood on the sidelines with Clint and resisted the urge to go shoo them all away.

"She's come a long way," Clint said quietly, watching the chaos with an unreadable expression.

“She’s told me bits and pieces of what she was like back then. I think she’s still working on it. Probably always will be.”

"Probably. Nat still had bad days, now and again, and she's almost thirty years out of the Room." He crossed his arms. "You seem to help.”

His voice and face were neutral. “Is that a bad thing?” Wyatt asked.

"It wasn't what I had in mind when I hired you." He shrugged. "But she's always had good instincts. And she deserves to be happy.”

“Wasn’t what I had in mind when I came here,” he replied. “And, yes, she does.”

The crowd around Kate had thinned a bit and she was just talking to the PR person who was organizing it. He could see in the way she fiddled with the papers in front of her she was nervous, but it was the only sign of it. Then the woman stepped away and asked for quiet and it was just Kate, lit on all sides and surrounded by cameras.

Someone counted down and pointed at Kate. She straightened her shoulders, looked at the cameras and said, "My name is Kate Bishop. You know me as the leader of the current Avengers team. I'm talking to you today because I want to change the way we talk about rape in this country."

She paused a beat and took a deep breath. "Twelve years ago, I was walking through a park at night. Four men blocked my path, attacked me, and raped me. I was wearing a short skirt, I had had a few drinks and I had had sex with my boyfriend earlier in the night. None of those things meant I wanted or deserved to be raped.

"Afterwards, the adults in my life convinced me not to press charges. 'You'll be the one on trial,' they told me. As a teenager, I was willing to be convinced because I just wanted it to go away. As an adult, I think it's disgusting that that is how we treat rape victims."

She went on to talk about the media coverage of the NYU student. The short sentence of a convicted rapist in California. And the overall message sent to girls and women about how it was their job not to get raped rather than the men's job not to do the raping.

"This needs to stop," Kate said, in Leader Voice, still staring the cameras down. "And I am making it my mission to stop it. So to all the victims of rape and sexual assault - both men and women - I say this: I am your voice. If there is a statement you need read, a message you want sent, I will read it for you. I am one of you. I have been where you are and I survived it. So can you. A phone number and website will be provided at the end of this video offering help to any who need it."

Clearing her throat, she shifted a little in her chair, looking for all the world like a cat watching prey. "And to all those in media, who insist on talking about what a victim was wearing, or drinking, or doing. I'm going to be watching you. Rape is a _crime_. We do not blame a mugging victim for getting mugged or a murder victim for being killed. So I'm putting you all on notice. Every news anchor or talk show host or entertainment reporter implying that a skimpy top and some sexy pictures on your phone mean you wanted to be violated, know that by spreading that sort of sexist, misogynistic, victim-blaming message you will have made an enemy of an Avenger." She smirked. "And you will have been asking for it.”

She held herself like she was made of steel. He knew it was a skin, and what was beneath was still very fragile. But right then he was so, so proud of her.

A few people applauded, making her smile. She waited to get her mic unhooked before standing and walking over to him and Clint. "How'd I do?”

“You were fantastic,” Wyatt said.

Clint reached out to touch her arm. “I’m so proud of you, Katie-Kate.”

She beamed. "Thank you." She reached out to hug first Clint, then Wyatt. "Thank you," she repeated softly, just for him.

He held her, and kissed her shoulder. “I got your back.”

For a few moments they just held onto each other, heedless of the crowd. When she leaned back her eyes were bright, but she was smiling. "Let's see who's lurking in the common room, go get some dim sum or something.”

“They’re all in there watching on TV,” Clint said. “I wouldn’t let them stand in the hall.”

"I appreciate that. You're a good wrangler.”

“I’ll have Darcy find a dim sum restaurant we can buy out for the evening,” Clint said.

Kate tilted her head. "Invite the Grownups. We'll make it a party.”

“They’re all in the common room, too,” Clint said, something mildly exasperated in his voice.

She laughed and shook her head. Weaving her fingers with Wyatt's, she reached over and took Clint's hand, too. "Come on. Let's go join the party.”

Clint was right, they ended up taking over an entire restaurant, like some sort of impromptu party. The kids were even running between the tables. They ate dim sum and Wyatt draped his arm over the back of her chair. At their table Tess and Amanda talked about the treatment Eli was starting, and Lani Wilson ate her body weight in shrimp while her husband paced in circles around the table, their brand new baby sleeping on his shoulder. She kept holding up bites of things for him to eat as he passed behind her.

Kate had used rubber bands and folded chopstick wrappers to rig up trainer chopsticks for the kids at their table. Once word got around, the rest of them showed up for the same treatment. Somehow Maggie Rogers ended up in Kate's lap eating rice one grain at a time. Wyatt had kind of expected Kate to nudge her off eventually, given the crowd and her stressful morning. But she gamely ate around the toddler and even helped her spear a couple of dumplings.

"We have a good village," she commented, leaning back on his arm.

Days like this did remind him of home, now that he thought about it. “We do.”

She ran her fingers through Maggie's hair, looking thoughtful, then turned to him. "For a long time I didn't like thinking about the future. But I'm looking forward to a future with you.”

That made him smile. “See? We fit.”

Resettling her head on his shoulder she gave a sigh of contentment. "Just perfectly.”

“You were magnificent today. Did I tell you that?”

"I thought it would be harder," she said quietly. "Saying it. But now that it's out I feel. . . lighter. Sometimes it feels like I'm walking around with weights tied to me and today I cut one of the ropes. I felt like that after I told you I loved you. And after we-" She glanced at Maggie, still perched on her knee. "After Alaska," she finished carefully.

“I wish I could free you from all your weights,” he said. “I know I can’t. But I do my best to help you carry them.”

"You help. Don't ever doubt you help. Even when I'm having trouble showing it, you help.”

He rubbed the back of her shoulder. “I see you better than you realize. And am happy to do so as long as you’ll let me.”

"That'll probably be a long time. I don't have the energy to break someone new in.”

That made him smile. “You _do_ have quite a learning curve to you.”

"I keep telling Clint to write a manual but he says it's a hands on apprenticeship thing.”

“It is. Don’t worry, I’ll train the kids.”

She grinned. "Starting them young will probably help.”

He stretched to kiss her temple. “You’re worth it.”

"I'm still not sure about that," she admitted quietly. "But you're starting to convince me.”

“That’s something I will also do as long as you’ll let me. And sometimes even if you don’t.”

She studied him. "And what can I do for you?”

He blinked, surprised by the question. “Do for me?”

"You do all that for me. You're patient and understanding and you keep my head on straight for me. Relationships are equal give and take. I was wondering if there was something I did for you.”

“Make me laugh. Protect me from bandits. Do things I can’t say in front of Captain America’s preschooler. And you. . . settle me. I’ve been restless my whole life. Didn’t know what I was looking for until right now.”

That made her smiled widely. "Okay. I'll do all that for as long as you'll let me.”

“Could be a long time. It’s a pretty sweet deal.”

"Well, I'm a sniper," she told him. "I have a lot of patience."


End file.
